


The Dragon King and Northern Queen - Prequel

by mywishingglass



Series: The Dragon King and Northern Queen series [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Rewrite, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Gender Role Reversal, Genderbending, Multi, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 16:03:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 60,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywishingglass/pseuds/mywishingglass
Summary: Aegon Targaryen (nicknamed Jon) is the youngest brother of Viserys and Rhaegar Targaryen. Aegon and Viserys flee to Essos to escape Robert Baratheon’s assassins. Jon has the typical traits of a Targaryen: purple eyes and silver hair.Ned Stark brings home a bastard girl named Dawn Snow (nicknamed Dany) who has the dark hair and grey eyes of the Starks.This will be the origin stories of Aegon "Jon" Targaryen living in exile in Essos and Dawn "Dany" Snow struggles as Ned Stark's bastard. The storyline will closely follow the books/show (up until Season 7) plotlines but with slight variations.The Season 7 journey and meeting of Jon and Dany will take place in "DRAGON KING AND NORTHERN QUEEN" story





	1. Winter is Coming

**Author's Note:**

> I will build the story, just as in the show and books, on Jon and Dany's separate journeys in Essos and The Wall, respectively. 
> 
> For the sake of this story and to make it as believable as possible, my Westeros will have women be a part of the Night's Watch, just to make the story of my version of Dany work.
> 
> I won't touch on all the episodes of the show/book but I will keep mostly all characters the same gender with the exception of Jon and Dany's romantic partners. There will also be a lot of new characters added that I just made up.
> 
> If you're just interested in reading Jonerys moments, please read the "DRAGON KING AND NORTHERN QUEEN" story.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking place a few years before they meet. Jon, known as Aegon Targaryen, has been sold by his brother Viserys to a Wise Master in Yunkai as a fighting pit slave. Dany, whose true name is Dawn Snow, is Ned Stark's bastard growing up in Winterfell.

( _Somewhere in_ _Yunkai, on the continent of Essos)_

“May I see my brother, please?” Viserys Targaryen asked irritably as he lay back on one of Master Yerzdan zo Yazrik’s burgundy chaise lounges. 

Master Yerzdan bowed low, “Of course, Your Grace. Prince Aegon has performed wonderfully in the fighting pits.”

Viserys bit into a peach, the juice streamed down his chin, as he mumbled “Glad to hear it. Amazing to hear he isn’t dead yet.”

Master Yerzdan clapped his hands twice and barked orders at his male slaves. They hurriedly scampered out of the room. Master Yerzdan turned back to Viserys and smiled his typical oily smile.

Viserys ignored him as he savoured his peach. It was stuffy in the upper room of Master Yerzdan’s brick manor and Viserys wished they had chosen to meet somewhere with a draft.

A few moments passed and still no sign of his brother. Viserys noticed the beads of sweat trickling down Master Yerzdan’s bald head. Viserys was growing impatient. His hands and face were sticky from the peach and his mouth tainted with the sour aftertaste of Yunkish wine.

Growling, Viserys glowered at Master Yerzdan, “What’s taking so long? Where is he?”

Before Master Yerzdan could mouth out an apology, the doors swung open and Viserys’ brother Aegon was brought into the room.  His clothes were worn-out and covered in the yellow dust that swirled Yunkai. The color of his sleeveless tunic was faded, his brown pants had a rip on one side and his boots were fraying on all sides. But the years had hardened Aegon’s once bony frame. He was a man now though only seventeen years of age and having spent the better part of four years as a slave in Yunkai’s fighting pits, Aegon looked every part the Targaryen warrior with his long matted silver hair, his growing beard and piercing purple eyes.

Viserys smiled gleefully, “My, my, little brother. Is that you?”

Aegon’s scowl was so deep, Master Yerzdan feared he would have attacked his guest without hesitation but Aegon stayed where he was and didn’t respond to his brother.

Viserys stood up from the lounge chair and circled his brother, “He will need to be bathed. He stinks of horse shit and piss.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Master Yerzdan said, bowing low. He muttered orders to the slaves who had brought Aegon in.

“So. How are you, little Jon? Or should I say, Aegon? Not so little anymore, I see. Did you miss me?” Viserys crooned sweetly as he patted his brother’s cheek.

Jon bit back a growl as he glared at his brother.

“You’re not still upset at me having sold you to Master Yerzdan zo Yazrik, are you? By the looks of things, I did you quite a favour, brother. You should be thanking me.”

Jon’s hands immediately flew to Viserys’ neck and other slaves quickly came forward and separated them, holding both of Jon’s arms back as he fought against them to get to Viserys.

Viserys coughed and wheezed, his violet eyes bulging as he gasped for air. As he caught his breath, Viserys yelled furiously as he smacked Jon in the face with his hand.

“You dare to hit me? Me! I am the King of the Seven Kingdoms, you good-for-nothing shit. You should be on your knees thanking me for not slicing your throat in your sleep when you were nothing but a useless, whiny little worm.” Viserys raged as he hit Jon again across the face.

Blood trickled from the side of Jon’s mouth as he spat it out to the ground.

“Chain him! Do it! Bring the chains!” Viserys ordered impatiently.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Master Yerzdan bowed apologetically and yelled instructions to his slaves standing outside the door.

Viserys grabbed Jon’s face and looked him in the eyes, “You woke the dragon, little Jon. And for that, you’ll be sleeping in pig shit tonight, do you hear me? Tomorrow, you’ll be bathed and dressed, ready to be sold to another buyer. Yes?”

Jon spat in Viserys eyes and Viserys hit him one more time on the head.

Some slaves came running in with the chains and clasped them onto Jon’s ankles and wrists, before dragging him out the door.

“Your Grace, my apologies if—”

Viserys waved a hand to shut him up as he wiped the bloody spittle from his eyes.

“He’ll do. Just get him cleaned up and ready for tomorrow. I need everything to be perfect. Do you understand?” Viserys growled.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Master Yerzdan said obediently.

“Your gold is in there.” Viserys said pointing his finger at the small chest on the floor.

“There’ll be two more when I retrieve my brother tomorrow. Did you call for Illyrio?” Viserys asked.

Master Yerzdan nodded, ‘He should be here tonight, Your Grace.”

“Good.” Viserys muttered as threw on his outer cloak and stormed out.

* * *

 

* * *

( _Meanwhile in the North of Westeros, in Winterfell_ _)_

“That’s it Bran, now breathe when you loose the arrow.”

Dawn Snow stood behind her half-brother Bran as he struggled to pull back on the string of his bow. Their youngest brother Rickon was sitting on the ground watching everyone with a gleeful smile.

“He’s doing it all wrong.” Her half-sister Arya said as she sat on one of the fences observing her brother.

“Just because you’re an archery genius, doesn’t make everyone one, Arya.” Robb Stark, the eldest of the children, stated with his arms folded.

Arya shrugged, “I could do what he’s doing blindfolded.”

“Shut up!” Bran yelled with irritation.

“Stop that now. Keep practicing, Bran.” A voice said from above. All the children turned to look up to see Lord and Lady Stark keeping a watchful eye on their brood.

Bran nodded as he resumed drawing his arrow.

“Remember, don’t think too much. I know Father is watching. And your mother. But you can do this.” Dany said encouragingly.

“Don’t forget to relax your bow arm, Bran.” Robb said, watching is younger brother intently.

As Bran breathed and loosed an arrow, it missed the mark completely and the arrow flew beyond the target.

Dany, Arya and Robb collapsed into fits of giggles.

“I hear one more sound out of you and you’ll be peeling potatoes in the back for the rest of the day.” Ned Stark threatened. His children immediately stopped their laughter but Arya had to stuff her fist in her mouth to keep from guffawing.

“You’re doing well, Bran.” His father continued with a smile as Bran looked up at him.

“You’ll be a master archer soon, my son.” Lady Catelyn said with a soft gaze.

Arya rolled her eyes and hopped off the fence, making her way to the kitchens.

“Lord Stark! My lady!” a voice called out from behind Ned and Catelyn. They both turned to see Ser Rodrik Cassel, their Master-at-arms looking at them gravely.

“What is it?” Ned Stark asked.

“A deserter of the Night’s Watch running south. He was caught just this morning, my Lord.”  Ser Rodrik informed them.

Ned nodded with a somber look then glancing towards his ward Theon Greyjoy, he ordered, “Fetch my sword and tell Dany and Robb to come along. Bring Bran as well.”

“Ned,” Catelyn interjected, “He’s only ten.”

Ned turned to look at his wife, “He won’t be a boy forever, Cat. And Winter is coming.”

Catelyn sighed deeply, when her husband said the words of their House that usually meant the decision was final. She turned to look back at the archery ground where her son Rickon was handing loose arrows to his half-sister.

Catelyn frowned as she observed her husband’s bastard. Dawn Snow was her name but her husband insisted on everyone calling her Dany.

Cat pressed her lips together. Perhaps it was to put an end to the rumors that Dawn was Ashara Dayne’s daughter. Cat had only seen the woman once and it was from a distance. But Cat remembered how beautiful and mysterious she looked with her dark hair and violet eyes. Cat's heart tightened at the memory of her new husband, gone for months to fight Robert Baratheon's long, bloody war against the Targaryens and then returning with a stranger's baby claiming it as his.

When Cat had asked the child's name, she remembered how it felt when Ned muttered the name, “Dawn Snow.” As if the humiliation wasn't enough that he had to bring a bastard daughter home, but to name her after Arthur Dayne's greatsword was physically excruciating. Ned insisted it was in honor of the man and not his sister, and vehemently denied that Ashara was the child's mother.

 _It was a common woman at a brothel, nothing more_ , Ned had said. Though she knew Ned to be the most truthful of men, Cat wouldn’t believe him.

So now, they all call her Dany, but everyone still talks and whispers. Everyone knows her true name as Dawn Snow, Ned Stark's bastard daughter.

Cat folded her arms as she watched her. Dany was tall for her age, being only a maid of 16. Two front strands of her long black hair was tied back in a braid as was the Northern custom but she wore a brown leather tunic over black breeches and boots similar to what the Northern boys would wear. Catelyn felt Dany was proving to be a growing influence on her daughter Arya who was starting to shun her dresses and pleaded to have leather clothing similar to her half-sister.

Just then, Catelyn’s eyes met Dany’s. Dany had dark grey eyes like her husband and seeing them made Catelyn’s blood boil. She always thought Dany would take after her mother, whoever she was, but as she grew older, Catelyn only saw more of Ned in her. Dany had more of the Stark look than any of her other children except for Arya. Most of her children had the Tully blue eyes or bright auburn hair. But Arya and Dawn looked eerily similar, as if they were twins but born years apart. The thought made Catelyn’s skin crawl.

Catelyn tore her eyes away from her husband’s bastard as she walked off.

“I think I got all of it, Dany.” Little Rickon said with a smile as he handed her the last of the arrows.

“Good lad.” Dany said ruffling his hair. But her smile was forced, Lady Stark had been throwing her dagger glares more often lately than in the past. Previously, Lady Stark would simply ignore her or pretended she didn’t exist.

 _I know she definitely wishes I didn’t exist,_ Dany thought morosely.

“Father’s executing a Night’s Watch deserter.” Robb said as he approached Dawn, breaking her train of thought. “Theon told me.”

Dany nodded, “Did he ask for us to go with him?”

“Aye,” Robb responded, “And Bran as well.”

“Bran?” Dany asked.

Robb shrugged, “You know Father, —”

“Winter is coming.” Robb and Dany said at the same time.

Dany mirrored her brother’s smile. She wondered why she could never grow to hate Robb. He looked almost exactly like his Lady Mother except for his smile. He had their father’s smile, Dany thought.

But he never shunned her nor treated her less even though his mother did. Dany got along well with all of her half-siblings, though Sansa had been distancing herself a lot more often as she grew older. But Sansa was Lady Stark's daughter in both looks and in actions.

Dany sighed as she stuck the last of the arrows back in the quiver. She realized she should get ready soon, Father wouldn’t want her to be late.

* * *

 

“I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North sentence you to die.”

Dany came up behind Bran and said quietly, “Don’t look away. Father will know if you do.”

The Great Valyrian sword Ice came down swiftly unto the deserter’s neck as his head fell with a thud on to the grass.

Dany saw Robb swallow hard as the blood poured out of the man’s severed neck. Dany patted Bran’s back, “Good. You did well.”

As Dany adjusted the saddles of her horse, she saw her Father talking quietly to Bran. Dany managed a little smile. She remembered the first time Ned had brought her along to an execution. She was only nine at that time, much younger than Bran or Robb when they witnessed their Father calmly ending the life of another person. And it was only because Lady Catelyn made no move to prevent him from letting her go. Dany was his daughter after all, not hers.

 _The one who passes the sentence should swing the sword_.

Those were her father’s words and she was sure that he was saying that to Bran now.

Just before she mounted her horse, she saw her Father walking towards her.

“Dany.” He said quietly.

“Yes, my Lord.” She answered.

“You did well preparing your brother. If there is to be another beheading in the future, I hope to bring your sister.”

“Which one?” Dany asked.

Ned smiled slightly, “Whichever one their Mother will allow to ride with us.”

Dany hid a smile, “Lady Stark won’t be too pleased.”

Ned grunted as he turned away, “Winter is Coming.”

 _Yes, Winter is Coming,_ Dany thought as she lifted herself onto the saddle of her horse.

* * *

 

Lord Stark, his children and his men were on their way back to Winterfell when a soldier came running to them.

“My Lord Stark, there’s something by the river. You have to come and see.”

The Stark party dismounted quickly from their horses and followed the soldier on foot.

In a few moments, they came upon a river and on the snow covered bank was a dead stag, its abdomen was torn and its guts spilled out over the snowy grass, the rotten smell of its flesh permeated the air. A few meters away was a dead wolf, a piece of the stag’s antler was sticking out of its neck.

“That’s not a wolf,” Robb said as he stepped closer to the dead beast.

“It’s a direwolf.” Ned Stark stated, his eyes scanning the bodies of the two dead creatures.

Dany walked just behind Robb to get a closer look.

“Don’t direwolves live beyond the Wall, Father?” Bran asked.

“You’re right, Bran.” Dany answered as she walked closer to the dead direwolf, “There aren’t supposed to be any direwolves south of the wall but… now there are five.”

Dany bent down over the dead beast and picked up a small grey pup.

“Here.” Dany said as she passed the pup to Bran.

“It’ll be easier to just end their lives, here and now.” Ned said grimly as he bent down and pulled the antler from the wolf’s neck.

Theon grabbed the pup from Bran’s arms, “Give it here.”

“No!” Bran exclaimed as Theon pulled out his dagger from his belt.

“Put your knife away.” Robb commanded, glaring at his father’s ward.

Theon scoffed, “I take orders from your father, not you.”

“Father, please!” Bran said, looking at his father.

Ned’s grim expression remained unchanged as he stood up.

Dany stepped forward and said respectfully, “If I may, my Lord Stark.”

Dany placed a hand on her younger brother’s shoulder as she looked at her Father, “There are five direwolf pups, just as there are five Stark children. The direwolf is the sigil of your House, my Lord. I believe your children are meant to have them.”

Ned considered Dany’s words before he turned around and said gruffly, “Feed them well, train them well, wash them well. And when they die, bury them well.”

Bran’s eyes lit up in excitement as Theon handed him back the direwolf pup.

Dany patted his head as she bent down to pick up the other pups and handed them to Robb.

“What about you?” Bran asked.

Dany smiled simply, “I’m not a Stark. Go on now.”

Bran walked towards his horse with the direwolf mewling in his arms.

Suddenly, Dany heard another soft whining noise somewhere behind the dead direwolf. As she stepped over the beast, she glanced around the area to see where the noise was coming from.

“What is it, Dany?” Robb asked.

“It’s… it’s another pup.” Dany said in surprise as she picked up the small pup from the snow-covered grass, this one was all white and its eyes were a deep dark red.

Theon laughed, “Looks like the runt of the litter, Snow. Like you.”

Despite the taunt, Dany couldn’t help but smile as she cradled the pup in her arms.

 _Yes,_ Dany thought, _but this one’s mine._  

* * *

* * *

 

The Yunkish sun was searing and bright the next day as Viserys held up his arm to shield his eyes, looking in the distance.

Viserys demanded with irritation, “We’ve been standing here for over an hour, Illyrio. Where is he?”

Illyrio Mopatis, the Magister of Pentos, stood beside Viserys waving a silk hand fan close to his neck.

“The Dothraki are not known for their punctuality, Your Grace.” Illyrio offered, fanning himself faster.

Viserys and Illyrio were standing outside the city of Yunkai with Master Yerzdan zo Yazrik’s slaves who were holding Jon in chains.

Viserys glanced at his brother and smirked. His orders to have Jon bathed and made presentable were followed to the last letter.

Jon was no longer in his fighting pit garb but instead dressed in the same Westerosi style and manner as his older brother. Jon’s tunic was dark grey and a three-headed dragon broche was pinned on his left breast. His silver hair hung loose on his shoulders and his face was cleanly shaven. A silk collar intricately woven with fine embroidery was clasped under his neck and a simple leather belt was buckled around his waist. His boots were clean and brand new and his breeches were black and fitted him well.

There was the sound of distant hoofbeats and Viserys grunted, “Finally.”

Five Dothraki horsemen halted their great black steeds in front of the welcoming party. A cloud of dust settling around them as they reared their horses. One man, in particular, had his hair tied back in a long black braid that touched his saddle. He urged his horse forward and he stared down Viserys and Illyrio.

“[Greetings and Respect, Great Khal! May I present to you Viserys of House Targaryen, third of his name and the rightful king of the Andals and the First Men. And as a gift to you, great Khal, his brother Prince Aegon Targaryen]”. Illyrio greeted in the Dothraki tongue as he bowed his head and presented his hand towards Viserys.

Viserys motioned impatiently to the slave guards who quickly pulled on Jon’s chains as they brought him forward.

Jon stumbled and nearly knocked his head into the Khal’s horse. He caught himself in time and glared up at the Dothraki lord.

The Khal inspected Jon intently with his eyes. After a few moments of scrutinizing his present, the Khal made a low grunting sound and turned his horse around.

The other Dothraki men followed suit and rode away with their Khal.

Viserys ran into the dusts of clouds their departing horses left behind.

“What’s happening? Where are they going?” Viserys demanded.

“The ceremony is finished, Your Grace.” Illyrio explained, fanning himself once again.

“Finished?” Viserys asked as he scoffed, “The barbarian didn’t even say a single word. Didn’t even say thank you.”

“There is no word for ‘thank you’ in Dothraki, my king.” Illyrio said respectfully, “And even if there was, the Khal would not be the type of man to say such a thing.”

Viserys fumed as he glowered in the direction the Dothraki men went.

“Worry not, Your Grace. If they didn’t like him, we would know. Believe me.” Illyrio said as he turned around and ordered the slaves to fetch their litters.

“Am I to be a Dothraki pit fighter now?” Jon growled, turning to look at Viserys.

Viserys grinned at his brother, “It’s good to hear your voice, little Jon.”

Jon gritted his teeth as his brother approached him.

“But, no, you will not be fighting in the slave pits anymore. You are a Prince after all, and my heir – well, my temporary heir until I reclaim my throne in Westeros and marry a high-born bitch who will breed my real heirs. I pray that day comes soon as I tire of you already, brother.” Viserys sneered.

“But,” Viserys sighed as he continued, “A king must do what needs to be done. I’ve made an arrangement with Khal Drogo. You are to be his slave, to do with whatever it is he pleases and he will grant me an army. Illyrio told me the Khal has a predilection for Westerosi fighters and you, my brother, will be his greatest warrior.”

Viserys gave Jon another cruel smile, “Or you can be his mistress when he gets bored of his three or four wives. I’m sure he would like to know how a Dragon Prince’s ass feels like.”

Jon cried out angrily as he tried to lift his arms but was held back by the slaves who held his chain.

Viserys laughed, “You’re more like a mad dog than a dragon, little brother.”

Then gripping Jon by the jaw, Viserys said more softly, “Listen to me closely, Jon. I will do whatever it takes to get back what belongs to me. Even if that means letting Drogo, his whole tribe and even his horses fuck you bloody and raw. You want to go home, don’t you? And we will, with 40,000 Dothraki screamers in my army.”

Viserys shoved Jon back and turned his back on him.

“I will kill you, Viserys. One day, I will have your head.” Jon said menacingly as he struggled against his chains.

This caused Viserys to look back at Jon and smirk smugly, “I sincerely hope you try, little Jon.”

Viserys rested his hand on the hilt of his sword once again, “But remember this. If I die, so does the chance of ever going home and reclaiming the seven kingdoms. No one knows you’re alive or who you are, little brother. And no one will, if I die. The only name our people drink their secret toasts to, the only name people cry out as their one true king… is mine.”

“Take him away.” Viserys ordered, waving a hand to the slaves holding Jon back.

Jon shot Viserys a deadly glare as he was dragged away yet again by his chains. But Viserys only yawned condescendingly before getting into his litter.

As Jon followed behind the two litters making their way back into the city, Jon clasped his hands together as if in prayer.

 _One day._ Jon prayed, _One day._

* * *

* * *

 

Dany stood in the courtyard, pulling back an arrow on her bow and releasing it. The arrow crunched through a previous bolt already at the centre of the bullseye.

“You’re going to waste a lot of arrows if you keep shooting that perfectly.” A voice said from behind her.

Dany turned and grinned as she saw a man dressed in black atop roan horse.

She dropped her bow carefully to the ground before running to him, “Uncle Benjen!”

Benjen Stark dismounted his horse and embraced his niece, “Dany! Look at you! Last I was here you were just a little girl!"

Dany pulled back and laughed, “It’s been years since your last visit, Uncle. You’re here for the feast?”

Benjen laughed, “Your father requested my presence and well, someone needs to rescue him from his royal guests. What are you doing out here?”

Dany forced a smile, “Lady Stark thought it would be an insult to the King and Queen to seat a bastard in their midst.”

Winterfell received word two months ago concerning the death of King Robert’s Hand, Jon Arryn. The King had also indicated that he would be riding North with his Queen and children as well as the rest of his royal entourage. Dany was glad for the distraction. With Lady Catelyn busying herself with preparations for the royal feast, Dany was spared having to be primped and polished like her sisters.

 _It was all for the better anyway_ , Dany thought. She never liked these type of things in the first place. People falling over themselves stinking of ale and vomit. Half naked women walking about. At least in the courtyard, Dany could find some peace and quiet despite the distant echoes of the music from inside the hall.

“Do you know if your father agreed? To be the King’s new Hand?” Benjen asked.

Dany nodded, “He told us all just before the feast. Father and my sisters will be preparing to leave King’s Landing in a few days.”

“Just your sisters?” Benjen asked curiously.

“I doubt a bastard girl will be of any use to anyone in King’s Landing, Uncle. I’m not a lady.” Dany responded.

“Well, we could always use another woman at the Wall.” Benjen said with a smile.

Dany could feel her heart flutter, she was hoping her Uncle would say that, “Then take me with you when you go back. I’m ready. Once Father leaves, I don’t know what Lady Stark would have me do. I’ll be as useless here as I would be at King’s Landing. But I can fight, Uncle. You know I can.”

Benjen chuckled, “You know what we give up when we take the black, don’t you? Besides, women at the Wall no longer become rangers.”

Dany grabbed her uncle’s arm, “I don't care. Ask Father tonight. I know he’ll say yes.”

"You would care if you really knew what it meant."

Dany's expression remained stubborn and determined.

“The Wall’s not going anywhere, Dany.” Benjen sighed as he patted his niece’s shoulder, “We’ll talk later, alright?”

Dany looked away reluctantly but nodded.

As she watched him walk back towards the castle, another voice sounded behind her.

“So, your uncle’s in the Night’s Watch, is he?”

Dany turned. This voice was unfamiliar to her. From the shadows, a short man walked towards her. He was barely taller than Bran but Dany could smell the alcohol from the flask he was carrying. His hair was blonde and wavy and his doublet was red trimmed with gold embroidery.

“He is. Who are you?” Dany asked.

“No one important.” The short man mumbled as he took a long swig from his flask.

Just then Dany remembered Arya telling her something about a Lannister dwarf who rode with the king but was nowhere to be seen when the royal entourage reached Winterfell.

“You’re the imp. Tyrion Lannister. The queen’s brother?” Dany asked.

“Just as you are Ned Stark's bastard daughter.” the dwarf smirked.

Dany tightened her jaw as she turned away from him to pick up her bow from the ground.

“Did I offend you, bastard? I’m sorry.” He apologized halfheartedly.

“I have a name, you know.” Dany retorted angrily.

“Indeed you have. A highly interesting one, if I might add. Dawn Snow.”

Dany gripped her bow so tight her knuckles turned white.

“My name is Dany.” She said firmly.

Tyrion chuckled, “Are you ashamed of your name, Dawn? Because it’s named after the sword of the man your father killed? Or because it reminds people of your mother?”

“My mother is not Ashara Dayne.”

“Just like my father isn’t Tywin Lannister, I suppose.” The dwarf answered wryly, his words slightly slurred.

“My father wouldn’t lie to me.”

Tyrion snorted, “I’m sure all children think that of their fathers until the day they realize that the grumpkins and snarks that lurked underneath their beds were nothing more than faery tales.”

Dany stepped towards him with a deep scowl on her face, “My father is not a liar.”

The dwarf merely smiled back at her, “Yes. Well, whatever the case may be. You should be proud of your name. For who are we without our names, I wonder? If you wear your name truly, it becomes like armor, and can never be used against you.”

Tyrion raised his flask to her before drinking it as he walked past her.

“Forgive me, my Lord but I’m afraid you know nothing about being a bastard.” Dany stated furiously.

Tyrion stopped and turned to look at her, “My dear girl. I know far more than you think. You see, all dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes.”

As the dwarf walked away, Dany couldn’t help but feel his words strike a chord in her. She shook her head, trying not to think more about the deeper meaning behind Lord Tyrion’s statements as she walked towards her target and forcefully pulled the broken arrows out of it.

* * *

* * *

 

“{It pains me to let you go, Prince Aegon.}” Master Yerzdan said somberly as he poured himself a glass of wine, “{You were my greatest fighter. There shall be no other like you. But your brother has paid more than triple your weight in gold. It was a difficult bargain.}

Jon smiled slightly as he stood with his hands behind his back in the centre of Master Yerzdan’s quarters.

{Your guidance and training is what kept me alive, Master. You have been most kind to me, even though you didn’t need to. I know my brother would have preferred you treated me as nothing more than a street dog.} Jon replied in the Valyrian tongue.

The Wise Master chuckled under his breath as he sipped his cup, “{Some would say I didn’t push you hard enough. You endured my slavemaster’s whip and the demands of the pits like any of my other fighters. I wouldn’t say you led a charmed life here.}”

Jon nodded, switching to common tongue, he said sincerely, “Thank you, Master Yerzdan zo Yazrik.”

Master Yerzdan nodded to him, “Before you leave. I do have a parting gift for my most profitable pit fighter.”

Atop one of the long tables on the other end of the room, Master Yerzdan opened a wooden box that was sitting at the centre of the table. He turned and beckoned Jon to come closer.

Jon walked hesitantly towards the Wise Master and looked curiously at the contents of the box. Jon’s dark purple eyes widened with awe as he beheld his gift.

“Are those… dragon eggs?” Jon asked in a breathless whisper. He reached into the box and picked up one of the large jeweled colored eggs. The one he took was as black as coal but it shone as brightly as a precious gem. Jon was surprised at the weight of the egg as he held it close to him. It was cold and rough, like a freshly hewn block of stone.

Master Yerzdan nodded, “Yes. Gifted by a trader from Asshai, the Shadow Lands, in exchange for my most prized slaves. The ages have turned them into stone, but they are still beautiful.”

“It is a gift worthy of a dragon prince. Take care that your brother doesn’t get his hands on them.”  Master Yerzdan said as he took the black egg from Jon’s hands and returned it to the box.

“You honor me, Master Yerzdan.” Jon said, bowing his head respectfully, feeling his heart tighten at the generosity of his Master.

The Wise Master closed the lid of the wooden box and motioned for Jon to take it. Holding the two metal rings on either side of the box, Jon lifted it off the table and was just about to leave the room when he turned to look at his Master one last time.

“ _Valar Morghulis._ ” Master Yerzdan stated somberly.

Jon nodded his head slightly as he responded, “ _Valar Doaheris._ ”

As Jon exited the room of his former Master, he held the box close to his chest.

 _Dragon eggs… worthy of a dragon prince…_ he thought, remembering Master Yerzdan’s words.

_I may not be worthy of them yet… but soon, I will be. Soon._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I don't trust the Dothraki and Valyrian translators online. All words spoken in Dothraki are in these parentheses [] and all Valyrian phrases are in these {}.


	2. The Kingsroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon attends a Dothraki wedding feast. Dany leaves Winterfell.

Dany slowly pushed open the door to Bran’s room. As it creaked open, Lady Catelyn looked up to see who was entering. Dany was met with a look of unease and aggravation from Lady Stark whose eyes were still red and puffy from her tears.  

Dany swallowed hard as she felt her own tears start to surface in her eyes as she saw Bran lying on his bed. Large swaths of white bandages were wrapped tightly around his head. 

“May I come in, Lady Stark? I just… want to say goodbye to Bran.” Dany said quietly as she stood at the doorway. 

Lady Stark gave the smallest of nods as she turned her attention back to the prayer wheel in her hands.  

Dany slowly approached the bed and knelt next to it. She grabbed Bran’s hand. It felt warm but his eyes remained closed.  

Dany remembered Lady Stark’s scream when they had found Bran on the ground. They said he fell from the tower. Dany couldn’t believe it. Bran’s been climbing that tower since he was five, he knew his way around it better than anyone. A stone must have given way or his hand must have slipped. 

Maester Luwin had said that if he made it through the night, he would survive. And he did. Thank the gods, he did.   

Dany felt the tears start to fall as she gripped her little brother’s hand and watched his sleeping face. 

“I’m going to Castle Black with Uncle Benjen. Father finally said yes after Uncle Benjen asked him. I don’t know if you remember, but I told you how I always wanted to serve as a member of the Night’s Watch.” 

Dany’s voice started to shake as she continued, “I wish I could be here when you wake up. I know you’ve always wanted to see the Wall. Maybe you can come visit when you’re better and we can walk on the top of the Wall together if you’re not afraid. I know you’d like that.”  

Dany reached to brush Bran’s cheek and as she did, she looked at Lady Stark on the other side of the bed. 

Catelyn’s glare was intermingled with fresh tears as her fingers tightly gripped the prayer circle in her hands. At first, Dany thought that maybe after all these years, Lady Stark’s cold heart might finally thaw through their shared love and care for Bran. But just as this passed Dany’s mind, she saw the silent fury in Catelyn’s eyes and knew she was wrong. 

“Leave. Now.” Lady Stark whispered harshly to Dany. 

Dany pulled her hand back and wiped the tears from her gray eyes as she turned her gaze back to her brother.  

 _Goodbye, Bran_. She wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. She turned to leave and came face to face with her father who was standing outside the door. 

Dany bowed her head as she rushed out of the room and heard her father close the door behind her as he walked in.  

* * *

 

The sound of the heavy drumbeats resounded in Jon’s ears as he stood with his hands tied behind his back and a heavy chain collar hung around his neck. 

The stench of the Dothraki meats that were starting to turn tainted the air as Jon watched the Dothraki women’s frenzied dance in the center of the gathering. 

It was Khal Drogo’s wedding ceremony to his third wife. His two other wives were busy gossiping with each other as they sat on the lower steps of the stage where the Khal and his new wife were sitting. The Dothraki women dancers were suddenly joined by a few of the Khal’s men who had no qualms in interrupting the performance to start taking the women forcefully from behind. The women didn’t show signs of complaints or struggles though. Blue paint decorated the bodies of both the men and women. 

Jon had met Dothraki before but it was his first time witnessing a Dothraki wedding feast. He couldn’t speak their tongue and so made a resolve to start learning it quickly if he intended to survive among these people. His gaze fell on Viserys and Magister Illyrio, sitting on the sidelines. The Khal had invited his brother and the magister as honored guests while Jon, the Khal’s wedding present, stayed at the back with the other slaves.  

Jon saw his brother’s irritated expression as he conversed with Illyrio.  

 _Probably wondering when the Khal would take his_ _khalasar_ _to fight for his army,_  Jon thought to himself,  _As if the Khal would ever do such a thing. No_ _Dothraki_ _would ever dare to cross the poison water. Not even one who claims to be as great a Khal as Khal Drogo._  

“Your first Dothraki wedding feast, my Prince?” a  deep voice said from beside him. 

Jon looked to see a man dressed in Westerosi armor approach him. 

Jon grunted sardonically, “It’s just like any other feast. Full of drunks and whores.”  

“It displeases me to see you this way, my Prince. But I suppose it is not my place to say what happens to you.” The man stated.  

“The displeasure is mine for being the brother of Viserys Targaryen, Third of His Name.” Jon responded in a biting tone, but he was curious about this Westerosi man. Viserys had told him the Khal had a fascination for fighters from his home country but this man was neither in chains nor wore the garb of the other Dothraki slaves. 

“Do I know you?” Jon asked. 

The man bowed his head respectfully, “Forgive me for not introducing myself, my Prince. I am Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island.” 

“You’re a knight?”  

Ser Jorah nodded, “I am. Anointed by the High Septon himself.” 

“What’s an anointed knight doing at a Dothraki Wedding?” Jon asked as he eyed Ser Jorah suspiciously.  

Jorah shook his head mournfully, “I’m an exiled knight, now, my Prince. I sold the poachers I had caught on Bear Island to slavers from Lys. I fled to Essos to escape execution for breaking the law and have lived across the continent for the past few years. I met your brother and Magister Illyrio in Pentos several weeks ago and traveled with them here. As you know, Khal Drogo has a certain fondness for the Westerosi style of fighting and I’ve come to teach him a few tricks.” 

Jon listened carefully to Ser Jorah’s story, he looked at the knight more intensely, “Have you sworn fealty to my brother, then?” 

Ser Jorah placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, “I have. But I do so in the spirit of fighting for the rightful king.” 

Jon scoffed, “And you think my brother is the rightful king?” 

They both looked at Viserys who was idly lounging on a cushion. 

“That remains to be seen, my Prince. But I do believe that the Iron Throne belongs to the Targaryens. It’s not just Viserys I’ll be serving. I swear my sword to you as well.” Ser Jorah said turning to Jon. 

Jon lifted his head, the sound of the chains rattled as he moved, “You would serve me, Ser Jorah? A Dothraki slave? A dog of the fighting pits?” 

“If you would have me.” Came Ser Jorah’s humble response.  

Jon was astonished at Ser Jorah’s pledge and was about to say something else in reply when the voice of Khal Drogo interrupted them. 

The Khal was standing on his feet and pointed towards Jon’s direction. Jon suddenly noticed everyone’s gaze was on him. Viserys and Illyrio were standing as well.  

“What’s happening?” Jon asked as he looked at Ser Jorah. 

“It seems the Khal would like to present his wedding gift to his new Khaleesi, my Prince.” Ser Jorah said as he slowly stepped backward from Jon. 

Jon felt his jaw tighten with anxiety as he looked back at the Khal. Khal Drogo stepped down the ramp and when his feet touched the dusty ground, he motioned Jon to come forward. 

Jon felt the rope that tied his hands together loosen as another slave came towards him removing the chained collar from his neck. As the rope was removed, Jon rubbed his wrists which were raw and red from the tightness of his restraints.  

The Khal said something else in his deep, commanding voice. 

“He wants you to go to him.” Jon heard Ser Jorah’s voice say. 

Jon walked slowly towards the Khal as the crowd parted ways to let him pass. He saw a few of them whisper to each other as he made his way to the bottom of the ramp. 

As he stopped in front of the Khal, Jon’s eyes got a better look at the Khal’s new bride. Her skin was the color of dark copper and her long black hair was adorned in small braids that reached her waist. Her eyes were soft and almond colored and her full lips were stained pink from the berries she had just eaten. The beauty of the new Khaleesi caught Jon by surprise as he gazed up at her.   

The Khal’s voice drew Jon’s attention as the Dothraki leader’s imposing figure stepped closer to him.  

“Khal Drogo commands you to show your skill, Prince Aegon.” Illyrio translated walking closer to Jon but remaining on the sidelines. 

“With what?” Jon asked as he turned to the Magister, “My bare fists?” 

Viserys grinned, “Don’t disappoint me, little brother.” 

Jon turned around and was faced with three of the Khal’s men, all holding their half-scythes in their hands. Jon tightened his fists as he stepped back. It wasn’t the first time he was outnumbered and weaponless. If he could face a band of Tyroshi sellswords and Bravoosi water dancers, three drunk Dothraki screamers should be less of a challenge.  

The first Dothraki man came towards him waving his blade, Jon avoided it easily and grabbed the man’s hair in his hands, kicking him in the stomach and smashing his elbow twice to the man’s face. The man dropped his weapon and Jon wasted no time in seizing it. Another man stepped forward to attack and Jon immediately used the first man as a shield. The Dothraki man screamed as his comrade’s blade cut across his chest. 

Jon threw the bleeding Dothraki man to the ground, and in three quick swings and parries had cut off the second’s man’s right arm clean from his shoulder. The third man whooped as he came towards Jon. Jon groaned as he failed to move quick enough to avoid the man’s blade which sliced deep into the back of his leg. The man made another swing at Jon's head but Jon crouched low and rolled on the ground in order to grab the other half-scythe from the severed arm of the second man. Now armed with two blades and blood seeping down his leg, Jon and the third Dothraki man circled each other.  

The Dothraki man attacked first and just as he came leaping, Jon sidestepped him and swung the two blades into the man’s back. As the man screamed, he fell on his knees. Jon grabbed the man by his long black hair and looking up, he made sure Khal Drogo was watching him as he held the Dothraki man down. 

The crowd watching waited with baited breath to see what the silver-haired Westerosi prince would do. A snarl crossed Jon’s face as he took the scythe and without hesitation, cut off the man’s braid, slashing his nape in the process. He discarded the lock of hair in his hand to the side and threw the two blades he held in his hand to the ground, panting hard. The Dothraki man collapsed on the dusty ground, his blood pooling at Jon’s feet. 

The Khal grinned and nodded his head with satisfaction. He then said a few loud words to the crowd who started to whoop and yell with jubilation.  

“The Khal is pleased with you and the Khaleesi is as well.” Ser Jorah said, coming up behind Jon. 

Jon looked back at the young bride atop the ramp who smiled shyly at him. The Khal walked back up the steps to retrieve his young Khaleesi. He grunted an order to his two other wives who quickly scampered to the foot of the ramp.  

As the Khal and his brides, as well as his bloodriders, left the gathering, Jon couldn’t help but stare after the young Khaleesi. She was no older than he, he imagined. A young Dothraki queen.  

“You live to survive another day,” Viserys’ voice said from behind him.  

Jon turned to face him and replied roughly, “For now.” 

Viserys smirked before he walked away, Magister Illyrio following closely behind him. 

“You’re bleeding, my Prince.” Ser Jorah stated, eyeing the gush of blood still streaming from Jon’s thigh. 

Jon shook his head, “It’s nothing.” 

“A tiny scratch can fester easily in the Dothraki Sea if you don’t take care.” Ser Jorah said as he reached into the pouch he had around his waist and pulled out a piece of cloth and a container of green salve. 

Jorah knelt on the ground and started to apply the salve to Jon’s wound and dress it in the bandage. 

“Thank you.” Jon said sincerely to the knight at his feet before asking “Do you know where the Khal is taking us after all this?”  

Ser Jorah nodded, “The Khal has to take his new Khaleesi and present her to the Dosh Khaleen in Vaes Dothrak. Hopefully, she’ll be with child by then.” 

“And after that?” 

“If the Khaleesi has a child and the omens prove auspicious, the Khal will lead his khalasar to Westeros to win back your brother’s crown.” Ser Jorah stated knowingly. 

“Does Khal Drogo have any children? She is his third wife, isn’t she?” Jon questioned. 

“Khal Drogo’s wives have yet to bear him a living child.” Jorah responded, “It is said that he was cursed by a Lhazareen witch whose village the Khal had raided. He took his new wife from another Lhazar village in the hopes that doing so might break the curse.” 

“Do you believe that’s true?” Jon asked. 

Jorah shrugged as he tied the knot on the bandage behind Jon’s leg, “The Dothraki are suspicious of the Lhazareens but they have strong beliefs in their own omens and prophecies. I myself don’t hold true to any religion save for the gods of the Seven, but even to them I’m not a pious man, so I can’t say that I put much faith in these superstitions.” 

Jon considered Jorah’s words carefully as Jorah stood.  

Jon whispered to him, “I believe I can trust you, Mormont. But mark me when I say that the last person who betrayed me choked on his own blood in a cell.” 

Jon stared at Ser Jorah intently for a few moments before speaking, “Behind the tents, underneath a bush, I’ve hidden a sack. Inside you will find three large dragon eggs. I managed to slip away from my guards for a few moments before the feast, but they soon caught up with me and chained me.” 

He moved closer to Ser Jorah, “Retrieve the sack and guard those eggs with your life. Breathe not a word of this to my brother. If you do this for me, Ser Jorah, then maybe I can learn the true worth of your loyalty to my House.” 

The knight said obediently, “You have my word, my Prince. I will do as you say.” 

Just then two Dothraki men approached them and spoke to Ser Jorah who translated for Jon.  

“The Khal wants to see you in his tent.”  

Jon glanced at the Dothraki men and back to Ser Jorah, “Remember my request, Ser Jorah and my vow to you should your words prove false.” 

“Yes, my Prince.”  Ser Jorah stated with a slight nod of his head. 

Jon nodded to him as he walked away in the direction of the Khal’s tent, the two Dothraki men following closely behind him. 

* * *

Dany stared up at the towers of Winterfell, a strange sense of foreboding rippled in her stomach as if it was the last time she was going to behold her home. She stood next to her horse, adjusting her saddle and checking to see she had everything she needed. 

She heard someone call her name and as she turned to face him, Dany smiled, “Robb.” 

“You didn’t think I’d let you leave without saying goodbye, did you?” Robb said with a grin. 

“I’m going to miss you, brother.” Dany said, her voice quivering as she embraced him. 

“The next time I see you, you’ll be all in black.” Robb said in her ear as he hugged her tightly. 

Dany pulled back and laughed, “It was always my color.” 

“You take care of yourself, alright?” He said seriously. “The Wall isn’t a safe place for girls like you.” 

Dany shook her head with amusement, “You worry too much. Don’t forget. I’ve beaten you with my sword and with my fists in the past.”  

But Robb didn’t smile, “I’m serious, Dany. This is going to be different, it’s not child’s play anymore. I don’t want anything awful to happen to you.” 

Dany reached down and showed him her small knife  hidden in her boot, “No one’s going to hurt me, Robb.” 

Robb pulled her in for another embrace, “Farewell, Snow.” 

Dany closed her eyes, fighting back the tears as she responded, “And you, Stark. Send me a raven when Bran wakes up, alright?” 

Robb pulled back and nodded, “I will. I promise. He’s not going to die.” 

Dany swallowed hard as she responded, “Of course not. You Starks are hard to kill. And I know you won’t let him.” 

Robb stepped back and then after nodding his head in farewell, he turned around to leave. 

Dany took a deep breath, a sudden pang in her chest made her feel as if this was the last time she was going to see Robb too. 

 _Stop it,_ Dany told herself,  _you are going to see Robb and Bran again._ _And Sansa, Arya, and_ _Rickon_ _. Even Lady Stark and Father._ _You’ll get to visit home again. Uncle_ _Benjen_ _did._  

“Are you going to leave without saying goodbye to me?”  

Dany sighed with a smile as she looked towards her little sister who was standing behind the wooden fence leading to the stables, her arms crossed. 

“Now why would I do that to my favorite sister?” Dany asked as she walked closer to Arya. 

Beside Arya was her direwolf Nymeria, who was already larger than most of their hounds despite being only a month old.  

“I wanted to show you a trick Nymeria learned.” Arya said proudly. 

Dany chuckled as she leaned on the fence, “Alright, let’s see it then.” 

Arya turned to her direwolf excitedly as she removed her gloves and placed it on the ground, “Just like we practiced, okay girl? Nymeria, gloves!” 

Dany waited to see what the direwolf would do, but Nymeria didn’t make any move other than perking up her ears at her name. 

Arya frowned as she pointed at the gloves at her feet, “Nymeria, gloves!” 

Nymeria bent to scratch her ears with her hind leg. 

Dany raised an eyebrow, “That’s quite an impressive trick.”     

Arya folded her arms again and her frown deepened, “Shut up.” 

“Listen, I have a present for you. I was going to leave it in your room as a surprise but maybe it’s best I give it to you now. You have to promise to be careful with it, alright?” Dany said, hoping the promise of a gift would cheer her little sister up. 

 From underneath her horse’s pack, Dany pulled out a small sword still sheathed.  

Arya gasped as she hopped over the fence and drew near to Dany, “A sword? For me?” 

“I had Mikken make it special for you. I know you always wanted one since you were little.” Dany said as she pulled out the thin sword from its sheath to show Arya.  

Arya’s eyes widened with amazement as Dany handed her the sword, “It’s so skinny.” 

Dany nodded, “Just like you. You’re going to have to train hard with it every day. I know it wasn’t easy when I held a sword for the first time. But with this, you’ll be a lot quicker and more precise. When you’re much older, you’ll be strong enough to handle larger swords. For now, this is yours.”  

Arya held the sword up scrutinizing the thin blade. 

“Remember the first thing I told you about swords?” 

Arya giggled, “Stick ‘em with the pointy end?” 

Dany laughed, “Exactly. You’ll be an expert swordsman in no time.” 

Arya grinned widely and was about to throw her arms around Dany, but Dany stepped back eyeing the sword, “Careful. The sword may be small but it’s still as sharp as a needle.” 

Arya gingerly put the sword back in the sheath Dany handed to her. Then when certain that the sword was safely tucked away, she jumped up to hug Dany’s neck. 

Dany held onto her sister tightly and kissed her forehead, “I will miss you the most, little sister.” 

“I wish you were coming with us, Dany.” Arya said sadly. 

Dany brushed her sister’s dark hair, “Me too. But the next time we see each other, I'll give you a proper lesson.” 

“You promise?” Arya asked, sniffling as Dany gently lowered her back to the ground.  

“I promise. Now go get ready. I’ll wave goodbye to you when your carriage passes the gate.” Dany said as she brushed Arya’s tears from her cheek. 

Arya nodded and taking the sword in her hand, she turned towards the castle. As Nymeria followed after her, Arya looked back at Dany, “I love you, Dany.” 

Dany felt the tears behind her eyes again as she responded, “I love you too, sweetling. Go on now.” 

Dany watched as her sister disappeared through the hustle and bustle of the busy castle grounds. 

A few hours later, the King and his royal entourage and men left the walls of Winterfell. Dany rode beside her uncle as she turned to wave goodbye to her brothers who stood on the balcony of the castle that looked over the front gates and courtyard. Lady Stark was not standing with Robb and Rickon as they waved at the departing party.  

As Dany passed the gates, she spurred her horse into a gallop so she could get a better view of the King’s caravan. She spotted Arya’s little head peeking out from one of the horse-drawn carriages.  

Dany waved her hand to get Arya‘s attention. Arya, fortunately, saw her and waved back. Dany watched the carriage as it moved further away and Arya’s head disappeared back inside the window. 

Just then, she saw her father on his horse making his way towards her.  

Dany bowed her head respectfully when he neared, “Lord Stark.” 

“I thought you’d change your mind about the Wall.” Ned said with a small smile. 

Dany shook her head, “You know I never wanted to be a lady and marry a Lord. I know I’ve been difficult and I’m sorry. At least at the Wall, no one will really care about my name… or lack of one.” 

Ned nodded with understanding, “The Starks have served with the Night's Watch for centuries, though you’d be the first daughter of our House to take the black. It’s a great honor.” 

Dany's grey eyes were filled with surprise at Ned’s words. 

Ned noticed this and said intently as he moved his horse closer to hers, “ You might not have my name Dany, but you have my blood. You are a Stark. Don’t ever forget that.” 

Dany swallowed hard. Lord Tyrion's word from the night of the royal feast echoed in the back of her mind. 

“I know you don’t like talking about her. But I have to know. If my mother isn’t Ashara Dayne, is my real mother still alive? Does she know about me, how I am, where I’m going? Does she care at all?” The questions poured out of Dany's mouth like a flood.  

Ned looked at Dany quietly, a glimmer of sadness passed his eyes as he replied, “The next time we see each other, I promise, I’ll tell you the truth about your mother.” 

Though his answer didn’t ease Dany's apprehension, Dany remained silent. 

Ned dismounted from his horse and motioned for Dany to do the same. Dany got down from her horse with ease and her father enveloped her in a warm embrace and kissed the top of her head. 

“Look after yourself. Hmm?” Ned said before he released her and mounted his horse again  

Dany watched as Ned rode towards the long caravan of royal horses and carriages. 

“Goodbye... Father.” she whispered under her breath.  

Dany turned towards her horse and lifted herself unto the saddle. Her uncle came riding up from behind her. 

"Are you ready?" He asked her with a small smile. 

Dany looked at her uncle and nodded, "Ready as I'll ever be." 

"Good." Uncle Benjen responded.  

A small contingent of Lannister soldiers was making their way towards them and Dany eyed the group suspiciously. 

"What are they doing coming this way?" Dany asked with a frown. 

Benjen followed her gaze and huffed under his breath, "Tyrion Lannister is riding North with us." 

"What does he want to do at the Wall?" 

"To piss off the edge of the world and live to tell the tale." Tyrion answered as he came up behind them on his horse.  

Both Dany and Benjen turned to look at the Lannister dwarf smiling cheekily at them.  

"You can't be serious." Dany said as Tyrion passed her. 

"Oh but I am," replied the dwarf, "Very serious, in fact. Perhaps you'd care to share my sense of wonder when we reach the Wall, Dawn Snow." 

Dany had to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she urged her horse forward.  

"Ride on ahead with Lord Tyrion, Dany." Her uncle said to her, "I need to keep an eye on the prisoners in the back." 

Dany nodded as she watched as Benjen turned his horse and made his way to the wagon cart a few yards behind them.  

"Quite a merry band we make. A rich dwarf, a northern bastard girl, a brother of the Night's watch, and a wagon of thieves, murderers, rapists, and whores." Tyrion chuckled to himself, the look of amusement brightening his face. 

"Are you really going to talk this much all the way to the Wall?" Dany asked irritably.  

"Not impressed by your new brothers and sisters in the back, Dawn Snow? Amazing thing about joining the Night's Watch. You get a whole new family to replace the old one you're leaving behind." 

Dany said nothing as she stared at the Kingsroad straight ahead, wondering how long she would have to endure Tyrion's banters and taunts.  

It seemed the same thought crossed Tyrion's mind as he added, "It's a long ride to the Wall. We might as well entertain each other. Come, tell me your story bastard. What is it that you hope to gain by taking the black?" 

"I don't know, Lord Tyrion. What is it that you hope to gain by asking me all these pointless questions?" Dany responded with a sarcastic tone. 

Tyrion laughed, "My, you are a quick one. A bastard girl of a great House off to defend the realm from White Walkers and Ice Spiders with the rest of her valiant comrades. Or at least try to, I don't know how much use a scullery maid is in defending the Wall." 

Dany flashed him a heated glare.  

Tyrion merely laughed again, "You're too tense, Dawn Snow. Here, some wine in the belly may loosen you a bit." 

Tyrion tossed her a skin of wine and Dany caught it in one hand. She looked down at it and hesitated. She never much liked the taste of wine but perhaps Lord Tyrion could be right this time. 

She unscrewed the cap and took a quick drink. The wine was cold but the heat of the alcohol warmed her stomach. She took another long drink and wiped her lips with her sleeve. 

"That's a girl." Tyrion stated with a big smile. 

Dany moved her horse closer to Tyrion as she handed him the wineskin back. 

"Better?" Tyrion asked. 

Although Dany didn't want to admit, the wine did help pacify her anxiety somewhat and she nodded her answer to Tyrion's question. 

"Good. See? Nothing like a bag of wine between two high-born outcasts to alleviate the boredom of this long journey to the Wall." 

Dany looked at Tyrion curiously, "Do you think everything is a game to you, my Lord?" 

"Not at all." Came Tyrion's honest reply, "I just think life's too short to waste it all on drudgery and gloom. What is that Valyrian saying? Ah,  _Valar_ _Morghulis_. All men must die. Just because all men must don't mean all men should. Death is so final while life, life is full of endless possibilities. And I want to explore as much as I can for as long as I can. And you can also do so in high spirits and a bottle of wine or two." 

Dany bit her lip, as much as she didn't want to admit, she was starting to enjoy Lord Tyrion's company. Perhaps not all Lannisters are alike. Dany knew the stories of his brother the Kingslayer, the Queen his sister, and their father Tywin Lannister. Everyone did. She wondered if it was true that Tywin Lannister shits gold but looking at the trappings of Lord Tyrion's armor and horse, she knew there must be some truth to it.  

Dany heaved a deep breath, Tyrion was right about one thing. It was going to be a long ride to the Wall and she didn't know what to expect once they reached it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those having a hard time visualizing my version of Jon and Dany.
> 
> For Dany: Joan of Arc and Yennefer from Witcher and typing warrior girl with black hair on Google images LOL
> 
> For Jon: Geralt from Witcher and Gannicus from Starz Spartacus.
> 
> Speaking of Starz Spartacus, if you haven't watched that show on Netflix, you should. It's great! And some of the storylines from the show might weave into Jon's storyline coz that's kinda where I got the idea of making him a slave starting out in the fighting pits - like a Gladiatior! Woohoo!


	3. Lady Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon faces a daunting task. Dany arrives at Castle Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> I'll try to wrap up Season 1/Book 1 in 2 or 3 chapters. These scenes are just so important in the character and world I want to try and create in this AU.  
> Also, I know a lot of you were asking why Aegon is called Jon and I will create a backstory for that NEXT chapter as Dany's storyline overpowered this chapter a lot.  
> There is a bit of Jon/Val (well, Val if she were a Dothraki instead of a wildling) here for the sake of the story (as there was Jon/Ygritte and a Dany/Drogo before Jon/Dany). So please bear with that, for now.  
> Bunch of new characters I added just because I made Castle Black co-ed.

Jon entered the Khal’s tent and the two Dothraki guards followed in behind him.

The Khal was seated at the edge of his bed. Jon swallowed hard as he balled his fists. Viserys' words came back to haunt him and Jon wondered if there was some truth to them. Being sold as a fighting pit slave was not the same as being sold as a slave for pleasure. Ironically enough, there was more pleasure in killing for the entertainment of men than getting fucked by them.

The Khal grunted some words and the two men left the tent. Once alone in the tent with the Khal, Jon felt his breathing quicken as the Khal stood up and walked towards him. The Khal looked Jon up and down and circled around him. Jon wondered if he would be able to take on the Khal should things take a turn for the worse. Jon's eyes immediately darted around the tent to see what he could use as a weapon.

_Candles… bedding… perhaps his arakh is close by.. or a knife or—_

His thoughts were interrupted when the flaps of the tent opened. Jon turned and saw the Khal’s young Khaleesi walk in. Her head bent down as she passed him and then sat on the bed. Her hands fidgeted with her braids as she kept her head and her eyes down.

The tent flap rustled again and this time another woman, a little older than the Khaleesi walked in. This woman wasn't one of the Khal’s wives but Jon had seen her leave with the Khaleesi and the Khal at the feast.

“This one is named Irri.” The woman said. “I, helper of Khaleesi. Speak common tongue. Like you.”

Jon understood, she was one of the Khaleesi's handmaidens and she was here to translate for him.

“Why am I here?” Jon asked.

Irri looked at the Khal who was still standing behind Jon and said something to him. The Khal responded back.

Irri returned her gaze to Jon, “The Khal need you.”

Jon looked back at the Khal who was giving him a fierce stare.

“I already killed three men for him.” Jon said as he turned to Irri. “I’m not going to hurt the Khaleesi.”

Irri shook her head, “No. Not fight. Not hurt Khaleesi. You give Khaleesi umm [baby? Child? You need to give Khaleesi a baby].”

Jon looked confused, “I’m sorry I don’t understand…”

Irri looked frustrated trying to find the right word and then she made the motion of her hand around her stomach.

Jon was slowly starting to see what she was trying to say and he shook his head, “No. No I can’t. I can’t give the Khaleesi a child, she’s the Khal's wife. This is their wedding night.”

“Khal want you, give Khaleesi child.” Irri continued in her halting voice as she deduced the right word that she wanted to say.

Jon looked at the Khal again who still fixated on him with the same look.

“Dosh Khaleen say Khal will have child. Stallion who mounts world. Child have hair like you.”

Jon was more confused than ever. Then sighing with frustration, he said urgently, “Ser Jorah. Find Ser Jorah. The Westerosi knight. He can help you with your words.”

Irri looked at the Khal and said a few words. The Khal looked disgruntled in his response but he nodded.

Irri exited the tent and Jon stood awkwardly between the Khal and the Khaleesi. Jon couldn’t believe what he was just asked to do. He gave a passing glance to the Khaleesi who hadn’t moved at all throughout the entire discussion.

A few agonizing moments crawled by that Jon breathed with relief when he saw Ser Jorah enter the tent with Irri.

“They’re asking me to impregnate her.” Jon blurted out.

Irri whispered urgently in Jorah’s ear and Jorah listened intently his eyebrows deeply furrowed. Then he looked at Jon.

“It seems when they were last at Vaes Dothrak, the Dosh Khaleen – their seers – prophesied that Khal Drogo is to have a son. The Stallion who Mounts the World. They say his son will have the eyes the color of ripe grapes and hair as white as the goat's milk.”

Jon cut in, “But it won’t be his son if I lay with her.”

Jorah took a deep breath, “You’re the Khal's slave, my prince. Everything you are and everything you own are now his to do as he pleases. The victories you win will be his. The men you kill will be seen as slain by the Khal's own hand. And any woman or child you have, he will claim as his.”

Jon was breathing hard now, his heart racing. This wasn't at all what he expected. To be sold as a fighting cock was one thing but to be a horse lord’s breeding stud was something else entirely.

“I won’t do it. I can’t.” Jon said forcefully.

As Jorah spoke, Irri was whispering the translations in the Khal's ear.

Ser Jorah looked at the Khal who uttered a few words.

“If you don’t do this. You will die.” Jorah said, stressing on each word.

It now became clear to Jon why the Khal was willing to bargain with Viserys. His khalasar for a silver-haired son of prophecy.

 _All for a damn prophecy,_ Jon thought angrily, _Viserys must have been over the moon when he heard this. Of course, he would have told the Khal of his brother with the same silver hair and dark purple eyes._

“Does he want me to do it, right here? Right now? With everyone watching? Like dogs fucking in the streets?” Jon asked as he could his face growing warm.

Ser Jorah murmured something to the Khal. The Khal's frown deepened and he and Jorah exchanged a few more words.

Jorah looked back at Jon, “The Khal doesn’t trust you to complete the task. He wants to be here to ensure you do.”

Jon fumed, “Tell the Great Khal that if I don’t get a moment alone with the girl, he won’t get his little horse prince.”

The Khal glowered at Jon but Jon didn’t care. He wasn’t going to make himself or the Khaleesi into a public spectacle. The Khal seemed to say a few choice words to Jorah before he stood and left the tent, Irri followed behind him.

“The Khal will give you what you ask, but it’s not much time. They will check the sheets to see that you’ve completed your task. He said if he finds out that you deceived him, he will adorn his horse with both your heads, and your brother's… and mine.”

Jon cursed under his breath. There was no way around it. Jon ran his hand through his long silver-blonde hair.

“What’s the Khaleesi's name?”

Jorah looked at the girl sitting at the edge of the bed.

“[Khaleesi. The silver warrior asks your name].”

The girl glanced up at Ser Jorah and responded softly, “Valii”

Jon swallowed hard and with a small nod to Ser Jorah, he conveyed through his eyes that he was ready.

Jorah bowed his head curtly and left the tent.

Jon was now alone with the Khaleesi. He walked cautiously towards her and knelt before her. She was still looking away from him, twiddling her fingers through her hair.

He carefully held her chin and made her face him. There was fear and shame in her almond colored eyes as she looked at him. Jon felt his heart move in pity for her, this wasn't what a wedding night was suppose to be like.

Jon brushed her cheek gently.

“Val-ee?” He attempted.

“Valii.” She corrected. _At least she’s talking, even if it’s just saying her name._

“Vali-ey?” he tried again. She shook her head.

Jon sighed, “I’m going to call you Val. Alright? Val?”

He pointed at her chest, “Val.” Then he pointed at himself, “Aegon.”

She seemed to comprehend and nodded, mimicking him. “Val.” She pointed at herself then at him “Ay-goon?”

This was going to be difficult.

“Just call me Jon. It’s easier. Jon.” He said gently, pointing at himself again.

“Jon.” She responded and when he nodded, she smiled.

“You have a beautiful smile, Khaleesi.” Jon said as he brushed her cheek and then her lips. Her cheeks immediately reddened at his soft touches.

_I don’t have much time. But I need her to trust me._

Jon tentatively pressed his lips to hers. She seemed to want to pull back but Jon kept a gentle hold on her. Soon enough, she relaxed in his arms and kissed him back.

Jon then pulled away to see if the look in her eyes had changed. No longer was the fear there but instead a small hint of desire lingered in those brown eyes.

_That’s more than enough._

Jon moved his hands to her waist and started to pull up her brown shift. He kissed her again as he did so. He then pushed her slowly onto the soft furs of the bed. He could hear her sighing against his lips and the sound made him want her.

With one hand under her back and the other loosening his breeches, he kept his mouth on hers and licked her bottom lip. He was glad that she didn’t resist him as he settled himself between her legs. He pulled away from her so he could spit on his hand. Then gently he reached down to feel her sex. She was moist which was a good sign, but he needed to make sure she’d be wet enough to take him.

He pleasured her with his hand until she was squirming under him, moaning with her eyes closed. Then when he decided it was time, he slowly entered her. Her sighs turned into a cry of pain. Jon held her close as he pushed in as gently as he could. He whispered soothing words to her in Valyrian as he thrust in her again. When he finally found a rhythm, Jon closed his eyes and grunted into her hair as he held up her left leg to push in further as he came.

She was panting quietly, her hands in his silver hair. Jon breathed in her scent as he lay on top of her. Then worrying that she might not be able to take his weight, he pulled himself out of her and sat up to close his breeches. As he did so, he noticed a large stain of blood mixed with both their fluids on the furs they had coupled on.

Just then Jon heard movement behind him, he turned to see the Khal and Ser Jorah enter. Jon looked back at the girl to see that was she was decent but she had already pulled down her shift and was sitting up on the bed.

Khal Drogo came towards Jon and glanced at the bed, looking satisfied when he saw the result. He said a few words and Ser Jorah cleared his throat.

“The Khal is pleased. He will call for you again when he needs you.”

Jon turned to look at the young Khaleesi on the bed, her cheeks were flushed and she was still breathing hard. She gave him a little smile and Jon was glad that despite the brevity and abruptness of her first time, she had not suffered too much.

As Jon made a motion to leave, he saw the Khal draw near to the Khaleesi on the bed. Before Jon could say anything, Ser Jorah grabbed his arm and led him out of the tent.

The night air provided cool respite as he and Ser Jorah exited the tent. But Jon worried about the young girl he had just left to the mercy of the Khal.

“Will she be alright? What’s he going to do to her?” Jon asked.

“She is his Khaleesi, my Prince. And this is their wedding night.” Ser Jorah responded.

Jon understood that but it didn’t settle the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He felt corrupted and used, like a piece of expensive silk that was just dragged through the muck. The Khaleesi was beautiful, granted, but to have to be taken by two men on the same night… it made Jon clench his fist in anger.

“How long am I expected to do this?”

“I don’t know. As long as the Khal needs you to or until the Khaleesi is with child.”

Ser Jorah noticed the look of intensity on Jon's face and said sympathetically, “It’ll get easier”

“Easier? Have you ever been commanded to fuck a girl against your will… against her will, Ser Jorah?” Jon muttered bitterly.

“I’ve done a great many things I’m not proud of, my Prince. But we all need to do such things in order to survive.” Ser Jorah replied.

Jon sighed in frustration. As much as he hated to admit it, Ser Jorah was right. Jon realized all the things he had to do while in the fighting pits were things he was not proud of but it was necessary.

“All this for a fucking army.” Jon grumbled as he and Jorah walked through the Dothraki encampment.

“Will the Khal even bring his army to Westeros to fight for my brother if I give him and his Khaleesi a child? The Dothraki have never crossed any sea, I doubt this khalasar will be any different.” Jon continued.

“The Dothraki follow strength above all, my Prince. If their leader proves himself to them, he can take his khalasar to the ends of the world if he so chooses, and they will follow.”

“And can a Dothraki army be enough to take back the Seven Kingdoms?” Jon asked.

“If Robert is fool enough to meet them on an open field.” Ser Jorah answered.

As they came to the edge of the camp, they were met by two burly Dothraki men holding chains.

“This is where I leave you, my Prince.” Ser Jorah stated.

As the Dothraki men clasped Jon's hands in chains, Jon asked in a quieter tone asked, “The eggs?”

“Safe and hidden, my Prince.”

Jon nodded as he was led away.

Staring at his bound hands, Jon wondered when the day would come when he would be free of them. As Jon slept on the cold hard ground that night, he had fitful dreams of the fighting pits, of being whipped and chained… and finally, of dragons bursting out of stone eggs in a great flame.

* * *

* * *

 

 It was bigger and colder and more breathtaking than she could have ever imagined.

Dany gazed up at the gigantic wall of ice that almost looked as if it could reach the heavens from where she was.

All the stories she’d ever heard about the Wall could not encapsulate the real thing before her eyes.

“Welcome.” Her uncle had said in a low voice as he led them towards the ancient stronghold of Castle Black, the main headquarters of the Night's Watch.

Dany felt her heart quicken as they neared the castle’s gates and as it opened, she allowed her gaze to wander around the main courtyard. The towers and buildings looked old and decrepit and some parts of the ramparts were crumbling and looked as if they had not been repaired in centuries. The smell of smoke and mud greeted Dany as they entered. The criminals they had kept in the prison wagon were now freed of their cage and were walking freely. The men were asked to go to the courtyard and the women walked towards a tall gate in the southeastern end of the compound.

Ghost, who was already larger than most hounds, followed closely beside her horse. Dany couldn’t help but smile to herself as people gazed in fear and awe at the sight of her direwolf casually walking through the courtyard.

Dany dismounted from her horse and a stable hand retrieved her reins from her.

Looking around, Dany was surprised to see that all those training in the courtyard were men.

 _Perhaps there was another training courtyard,_ Dany thought.

Dany caught sight of her uncle making his way up a wooden staircase at the front of the courtyard. As she made a move to follow him, Dany was stopped by a tall, lean man with crooked yellow teeth.

“And where do you think you’re going, little lady?” he asked, his sour breath on her face.

“To talk with my uncle, if you’ll excuse me…” Dany said as she made a move to pass him.

He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back, “Only rangers in this area. Cooks and whores are at the back.”

“What?” Dany said angrily.

“You heard me, girl. Now fuck off!”  The man threatened but his eyes soon widened with fear when Ghost stepped out from behind Dany and snarled at him, his teeth bare.

“W-what's that? All dogs should be kept in the kennels.” The man stammered as he stepped back.

“He isn’t a dog. He’s a direwolf. And he’s mine.” Dany stated as she laid a hand on Ghosts neck.

The man backed away slowly as he glared at her, “The Commander will have words with you, lass.”

“He can have as many words with me as he likes.” Then realizing that she didn’t want to start her first day with Ghost attacking a brother of the Night's Watch, she said calmly to her direwolf, “Come, Ghost. He isn’t worth it.”

Dany pulled on Ghost’s neck as they made their way towards a tall wooden gate at the south east end of the courtyard. A man was standing at the entrance but stepped aside to let Dany and Ghost through, though he eyed her direwolf cautiously as he did.

As Dany passed the gate, her eyes beheld a completely different scene from the courtyard and she found an answer as to where the women of the Night's Watch were.

To her left, was a small pen that held an even smaller coop of hens. A woman was gathering eggs from inside it. To her right, three women had their sleeves rolled up to above their elbows as they dipped wet cloths into a barrels of black dye. There were other women bustling back and forth with baskets of clothes or sheets. Just like the men Dany saw training in the courtyard, all the women were dressed in black.

“Move it!” a shrill voice stated behind her.

Dany moved aside quickly as a woman holding a headless chicken rushed past her.

“Are you new here, girl?” A large woman who had a black cloth tied around her head to keep her hair asked her. She had her both hands on her wide hips as she stared down at her.

Dany nodded.

The woman noticed Ghost behind her, “That dog needs to be caged.”

“He's not a dog, He’s a direwolf.” Dany responded intensely.

The woman seemed unfazed, “Dog or not, he’ll pick off the pigs and the chickens if he's roaming about. Either he goes beyond the Wall or in the kennels. Your choice.”

The woman pointed to the back and Dany could hear the sound of barks and whines coming from a shed. Dany reluctantly grabbed Ghost by the back of his neck and took him to the kennels.

As she entered the dark shed, a strong foul stench greeted her as she walked in. Dany covered her face with her arm.

_Not even the kennels at Winterfell were this awful._

Dany walked quickly into the shed and her eyes looked around for a spare cage.

Ghost growled at the hounds as he passed their cages while they barked furiously back at him.

Dany finally found one at the back end and opened it, it seemed a lot cleaner than the other cages although she could see some old dog feces and some bones in the back.

“I’m so sorry, boy. I’ll come get you at night when everyone's asleep, I promise.” Dany whispered as she pushed Ghost into the cage and closed the door.

Ghost looked up at her with his red eyes and Dany sighed, “I know. I hate it too but we have to bear with this for awhile, alright?”

She bolted the gate and summoning all the strength she had, she turned to leave.

As she exited the kennels, the woman from before was waiting for her.

“The Madam will want to see ya. She’d be the Head Keeper of Castle Black.” The woman said as Dany approached her.

Dany followed the woman up a wooden stairway that led to one of the towers. They passed a few doors until they came to a room at the end. The woman knocked twice on the door.

A voice hollered from the inside.

The woman opened the door and Dany saw an older woman sitting by the hearth mending a shirt.

“New girl, Madam.” The woman said as she tilted her head towards Dany.

“This came with Benjen from Winterfell?” The Madam asked in a bored tone.

“Aye.” This time Dany answered for herself.

The Madam glared at her, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“She ain’t no murderer, thief or whore though. Look at her clothes. This one's a highborn lady.” The woman commented snidely.

The Madam stood from her seat and scrutinized Dany, “Aye.”

The Madam drew near to Dany and abruptly grabbed her palm.

“You look and smell like a highborn girl but your hands are calloused like a man's. Tell me, girl, what’s your name?”

“Dan— Dawn Snow.” Dany answered, opting for the first time to use her true name.

The Madam didn’t bat an eye, “A highborn bastard girl. Your father allow you to play with swords and bows then, bastard?”

Dany pulled back her hand with a jerk, “My father is Eddard Stark. Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.”

The Madam scoffed, “You think just because your father’s a Lord and your uncle First Ranger makes you better than anyone? Think again, girl. You’ll scrub and sweep on your hands and knees like all the rest.”

Dany growled, “I will not. I want—”

A hard smack to her face stopped Dany in mid-sentence.

“No one cares what you want. You think the Night's Watch is a place of honor? To find glory protecting the realm? Maybe if you grow a cock overnight you might be. The last woman ranger died 50 years ago and since then it’s the women that’s kept these damn walls from falling apart and the men from pissing themselves to death.”

Dany held a hand to her cheek which burned red as she stared hard at the Madam.

“Show Lady Snow to the quarters, Aly. Bring her freshly boiled clothes and give her to the kitchens. If the girl can hold a sword, she can very well hold a knife.” The Madam said in a condescending tone as she sat back on her chair by the hearth.

“Aye. Come on then, Lady Snow.” Aly snickered as she pushed Dany back out into the cold.

Dany stumbled out and grabbed onto the wooden railings of the bannister to keep herself from falling.

“Don’t call me that.” Dany muttered fiercely under her breath.

“I’ll call you what I like, Lady Snow. Till you swear the vows, you’re no sister of mine.” Aly retorted.

Dany stood up straight and followed after Aly. They walked back down the stairs and entered a door on the lower level of the tower. Dany found herself in a large room. On either side of the walls was a row of at least ten beds.

“This is where you’ll be staying. The last bed back there is yours. I’d wash the linens if I were you, can’t be too careful if the last girl had a head of lice or ticks.” Aly said in a dull tone.

Dany walked towards the bed at the end of the room. It was much smaller than her bed at Winterfell and the linens were laid over a wooden bed frame. A small square lump at the top of the bed barely resembled a pillow.

Dany swallowed hard. Her first hour at Castle Black and she was already thinking about her room back at Winterfell.

“Here.”

Dany turned and a pile of clothes dropped in her arms.

“Your brand new wardrobe, Lady Snow.” Aly said mockingly. A few other women were looking into the room curiously and giggled behind their hands.

“Rules here are simple.” Aly stated, “Do as your told, you aren't to go to men's quarters or the courtyard unless asked to and no one leaves the quarters after dark. Unless of course you want to earn a copper for a fuck or two like the whores. We don’t care for no babies here so if you got one in you, you’re sent off to Mole’s Town with all the rest of the bastards. Should be called Snow's Town by now.”

Dany said nothing as she looked down at the garments in her arms.

“And here.” In Aly’s hand was a knife.

“What’s that for?” Dany asked, though she felt she already knew the reason.

“For when no isn’t an answer they like coming from a pretty thing like you.” Aly replied with a smirk.

“I already have one, thanks.” Dany said.

Aly shrugged as she pocketed the dagger, “Suit yourself. We look out for each other here but if you want to end up bruised and beaten, that ain't no problem of mine.”

As Aly walked away, Dany dropped the clothes on the bed and sighed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

_You can do this, Dany. You can._

* * *

Later that day, Dany was clad in her new black clothes. She was tasked to scrub the tables in the mess hall before supper. Two other girls were with her scrubbing other tables in the room.

 _Always go in pairs or threes if you can_ , Aly had told her, _Its safer in numbers._

Dany rolled her eyes to herself. _I can take care of myself,_ she thought irritably.

The doors of the hall opened and Dany saw the top of a blonde head walk in.

“Adjusting well to your new home?” Tyrion asked with a small smile as he walked towards her.

Dany was not in the mood for his mockery and remained silent.

“I’m sure you’ll grow to like it eventually, Lady Snow.”

“Who told you to call me that?” Dany snapped as she slammed her hand on the table.

Tyrion chuckled, “Gossip spreads fast at the Wall. You’re already making quite a name for yourself.”

Dany breathed hard through her nose as she went back to scrubbing the table.

“M'lady Snow! Cook needs you to bring some potatoes back to the larder.” Aly called to her from the door.

Dany looked up at Tyrion with a hard gaze.

“I think she means you.” Tyrion said with a look of amusement.

Dany threw the brush she was holding back in the pail at her feet and walked past the Lannister dwarf.

Dany exited the main hall doors and came face to face with Aly who smirked at her before turning around and leading the way to the kitchens.

Just then, Dany heard a loud yelp come from the courtyard.

“I yield! I yield! Please, no more. No more!” A high pitched squeal rang out.

Dany stopped and looked over at the source of the sound and saw a plump pink boy getting kicked to the ground and beaten with a wooden sword by one of the other men.

“Never you mind that. Come on now, Lady Snow.” She heard Aly say.

“Hit him until he finds his feet. Gods help us that they start sending us more of these fat pig lords from the South.” A tall man standing with his hands behind his back jeered. The other men laughed.

As the boy got hit again and again, Dany balled her hands into fists and started towards the group.

“Oi! You’re not allowed there! Snow! SNOW!” She heard Aly call from behind her.

But Dany was already halfway through the courtyard when Aly yelled her name. Without a second thought, she shoved the man hitting the boy hard to the ground. The man fell flat on his face and looked  at who had knocked him down.

The other men turned around in surprise.

“The boy already said he yielded!” She yelled furiously.

“Well, well. Looks like you got yourself a little lady warrior to fight for your honor, Tarly.” The tall man said with a cruel grin.

Aly came running to the group, “Apologies, Ser Allister. The new girl doesn’t know her place.”

Ser Allister chuckled, “No. This could be a good exercise for my boys and teach this impudent girl a lesson or two.”

Looking at one of the men standing around, Ser Allister said, “Grenn, fetch a training sword for our little lady. I’d like to see her defend her portly lord. Rast and Pyp, you two take her.”

Dany reached down to help the boy up from the ground.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yes but… you won’t be.” He replied in a quivering voice.

The boy called Grenn handed her a wooden sword. It felt heavier in her hand than her usual practice sword as she held it with both hands.

All the other men had taken notice of the girl running into the midst of the courtyard and all eyes were on her.

Dany bent her knees and readied herself. She took a deep breath to calm her breathing as she held up the sword.

The first man called Rast came charging towards her, he was much stronger than Dany anticipated but Dany was quicker on her feet. She parried his attacks twice, ducked when he swung at her and she hit him hard on the back if his neck. She then connected the sword to his knee causing him to groan in pain as he fell hard on the ground. Pyp came at her next, he managed to hit her in the ribs but again Dany quickly avoided his next two swings and despite the burning pain in her side, smashed her sword through his midsection and when he doubled over, she kneed him in the face causing blood to gush out from his nose.

Ser Allister pushed Grenn towards her, “Get her.”

Grenn rushed her with his sword but Dany crouched low and swung her sword at his legs, sweeping him to the ground. She then held the sword down hard over his throat.

“I yield! I yield!” he said holding his hands up.

Dany stood up panting and holding her side where Pyp had hit her. She threw the practice sword to the ground in front of Ser Allister.

“What’s your name?” Ser Allister demanded.

Dany lifted her head, “Dawn Snow.”

“Ah, Ned Stark's bastard girl.” Ser Allister sneered as he looked at the three men she had defeated in single combat, “Take a good long look at the girl who beat you down, lads. Our little lady grew up in a castle and learned how to play with a sword.”

He walked towards Dany and she held her ground as he neared, “Lady Snow, you may prove to be the least useless cunt on the Wall but that don’t mean I’m putting a sword in your hand again. You and your lover Tarly can clean out the stables. It's all your good for, for now. Come take a walk in the courtyard after dark and see what becomes of that pretty face without a sword.”

Dany stared hard at Ser Allister before she turned around and walked away. Looking up, she spotted Tyrion standing next to a large man with a white beard who was watching her intently.

Her side was starting to ache but she hid the pain as she disappeared into the kitchens.

* * *

“Does it hurt?” Sam asked as he shoveled horse manure into a brown sack.

Dany was raking the hay from the floors and had winced when she moved to bend down.

She shook her head in response to Sam's question as she continued her task.

“I’m Samwell Tarly by the way. But you can call me Sam.” He said with a cheery smile.

Dany glared at him, “You know it’s not going to get any easier. You’re going to have to fight for yourself or you’ll get beat up again.”

“I know.” Sam answered, his voice shaking again.

“Why didn’t you get up and fight back?” Dany asked as she paused from her work.

“I wanted to.” Sam responded, “But I’m too much of a coward. My father always said so.”

“Well, your father isn’t here Sam. You have to learn fast or you’ll never survive.” Dany replied.

Sam simply nodded, then after a moment he said, “You fight really good, for a girl. Is it true what Thorne said about training at a castle?”

“Thorne?”

“Ser Allister.” Sam explained.

“Oh, right.” Dany took a deep breath before she responded, “I grew up at Winterfell. My father didn’t allow me to train at first. But I couldn’t stop asking, I was a stubborn girl. I was only eight but I knew I wanted to learn how to fight. I was always jealous of my brother Robb when the master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik, would train him in the yard. One day, I picked up one of Robb's practice swords and started swinging it at the straw dummy we had. I watched enough of Robb's training to pick up a few things.”

“Just then, my father was behind me. He had another practice sword in his hand. He wanted me to spar with him. Of course, I couldn’t beat my father and he wasn’t even trying. But I never gave up, no matter how hard and painful it was. I always stood back up on my feet.” Dany said as she smiled softly at the memory.

“The next day, Ser Rodrik called me to the yard. He had me fight with Robb. I lost many times but just as I did the night before, I stood up every time Robb knocked me down. Since then, I trained with my brother with the sword, the bow, the shield and the spear. I’m not the best yet but I won’t stop training even if all I do here is clean shit and chop onions.” Dany told Sam, her voice in a jesting tone at the last line.

Sam smiled at her, “It’s almost like the gods were cruel to make you a girl and me, a fat coward boy.”

“Perhaps.” Dany replied, “But perhaps instead of cursing the gods, we can make the most out of our situation.”

The two smiled at each other and Dany was relieved that at least one person at Castle Black didn’t think she was worthless because she was a girl or a bastard.

“And what about you, Sam?” she asked, “What’s your story?”

Sam shrugged.

“Come on.” Dany urged, “I told you mine.”

Sam sighed, “On my 18th Name Day, my father said that I was almost a man now, but I wasn’t worthy to be the Lord of Horn Hill or the ruler of his lands, so he told me to take the black and head North immediately. My inheritance and birthright to be passed to my younger brother, Dickon. If I refused to do so, my father said, he would take me on a hunt and somewhere in the forest, I would fall off my horse and die. Or at least, that’s what he would have told my mother.”

Dany looked at him with pity in her eyes. Sam’s chin trembled as he spoke.

“So it wasn’t like I had a choice.” Sam said, looking down, “It was the Wall or death and well, I don’t want to die. But it looks like I might… if Ser Allister makes me fight again. I’m not going to get any better, you know?”

Dany patted Sam on the arm and gave him a small smile, “Well, it’s not like you’ll get any worse either, Sam.”

This caused Sam to laugh and Dany did so too.

“You can call me Dany.” She said to him.

Sam grinned, “That’s a pretty name but I like Dawn Snow too.”

Dany laughed, “Then call me whatever you like. As long as it isn’t—”

“Lady Snow.” A voice interrupted them from behind.

It was Aly.

“You’re needed back in the kitchens, m’lady. Almost supper time.” She said roughly.

“I can finish up, Dany.” Sam said as he took her rake.

“Thanks, Sam.” Dany replied gratefully, as she followed Aly grudgingly out of the stables.

* * *

Once all the girls were asleep, Dany slowly creeped out of the quarters as quietly as she could. She knew she was already in trouble for breaking all the rules but she promised Ghost she would take him out at night.

Dany wrapped her fur coat around her and pulled up her black fur hood as she made her way to the kennels.

The stench of the kennels didn’t seem as bad in the cold of night, but Dany still had to tread carefully as she made it to the back.

“Ghost?” she whispered.

It was pitch-black and Dany had no torch as she felt her way through the cages. She could hear the dogs panting and whining as she passed them.

She saw a glint of red eyes staring up at her as she reached Ghost’s cage.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Dany said softly as she lifted the latch, “I had to wait till everyone was asleep.”

She could make out Ghost’s white form slip out of the cage door and she followed him outside the kennels.

“Ghost.” She called after him but it seemed that something had drawn his attention.

“Ghost, come back.” She hissed as Ghost’s white tail disappeared behind the corner. As Dany ran to catch up with him, she suddenly heard some voices.

“Please…”

“You keep your fucking mouth shut, bitch.”

“Hurry up, Rast. I want a go too.”

“Wish we could get a free and easy fuck like this every night.”

Dany finally figured out where Ghost had gone and why. In a dark corner, three men were holding young girl up against the wall. Dany recognized the name as one of the men she had knocked down earlier in the day but the other two were not Grenn or Pyp.

 Dany pulled her knife from her boot but hid it in her sleeve. She came up behind Ghost who waited for her a few steps ahead. She quietly approached the group.

“Three men against a girl. Funny how those odds turned out earlier today.” She said casually as she walked up to them.

The three men turned to look at her but the man called Rast still held the girl to the wall. She had long brown hair and her clothes were ripped up.

“It’s the bastard bitch from earlier.” One of the men muttered.

Ghost snarled viciously as he came up from behind her and the three men jumped at the sound.

“He’s a boy actually. His name is Ghost.” Dany said calmly, “And he doesn’t like rapists or rude little boys. Now you can let the girl go or you can try your odds against a direwolf… and me.”

Dany felt her knife in her sleeve and readied herself in case she would need it.

Ghost snarled again and snapped his teeth.

The three men quickly turned and ran. The young girl sobbed as she ran towards Dany. Dany held her close and brushed her brown hair hushing her.

“Did they hurt you?” Dany asked.

The girl nodded as she sobbed harder.

“Tell me your name.”

“Mila.”

“Are you new here, Mila?”

The girl nodded again.

Dany whispered, “Did no one tell you not to leave the quarters after dark? And where is your knife?”

Mila, who looked no older than Dany, hiccupped as she responded, “I left it at my bed. I forgot my bracelet by the washing boards. It’s a special one my brother gave me. I thought if I could be really quick, I wouldn’t need my knife ... but they came out of nowhere.”

“Here. Take mine.” Dany said offering her the knife she took from her sleeve, “It’s smaller and you can hide it in your boot or sleeve.

Mila took the knife gratefully, “Thank you. I won’t ever forget this.”

Dany smiled as she took off her cloak and draped it around the girl. The cold winds blew through Dany’s thin layers but she didn’t mind.

The girl gasped in fright when Ghost drew near to them.

“Don’t be afraid. Ghost came to protect you. He won’t hurt you, I promise.” Dany said as she brushed Ghost’s soft head.

Mila tentatively reached out a hand to Ghost and she managed a tiny smile as she touched his head.

“Come. Let’s go back.” Dany said and Mila nodded.

Dany and Mila slowly made their way back to their quarters but as they turned the corner, they were met by a dark figure.

“Off for a nice stroll in the night, are we little ladies?” a voice asked.

“Madam.” Mila gasped.

“And where have you two been off to? And why is _that_ out of its cage?” The Madam asked in a low gruff voice as she looked in Ghost's direction.

Dany frowned, “Mila was attacked by three men.”

“And what’s that to you?” The Madam asked, “If she wants to whore herself, ain’t no one stopping her.”

“I’m not a whore.” Mila cried. “My father was a farmer and—”

“Save your sob stories for someone who cares, girl. Still doesn’t explain what you both are doing out and why that wolf is running free.”

“Ghost saved her.” Dany said through gritted teeth, “Aly told me that we watch each other’s back in the Night’s Watch. I know we haven’t sworn the oath but we are still all sisters here. And sisters look out for each other. If Ghost patrols the quarters at night, no one will ever harm any girl here ever again.”

The Madam glared at both girls and the wolf and said nothing for a few moments.

“If a single one of those chickens goes missing, his head goes on a platter.” She grumbled as she made her way back up to the tower.

Dany heaved a sigh of relief as Mila bent down to hug Ghost.

Then taking Mila by the arm, they both sneaked quietly back into their quarters.

* * *

The next morning, Dany was taking out a bucket full of onion and potato peels to throw out when she was approached by two men.

She recognized them as Grenn and Pyp from the day before.

“Dawn Snow.” Pyp said, his nose still a little bruised and bloody from the previous day, “I wanted to talk to ya.”

“You’re doing it.” Dany mumbled back, she really was not ready for another fight.

Pyp and Grenn looked at each other and then Pyp said with his head low, “Thank you for what you did for my sister. It’s my fault she’s even here. I can’t forgive myself for not protecting her last night.”

Dany's eyes widened, “Mila is your sister? You’re the brother who made her that bracelet?”

Pyp blushed and Grenn guffawed as he looked at him, “You make bracelets?”

Pyp punched his arm but Grenn continued to snicker.

“Anyway, if there’s anything you need. Anything. We'll do it.” Pyp said sincerely.

Dany was taken aback at the sudden offer, but she managed a small smile as a thought crept into her head, “Well, there is one thing.”

“What is it?” Grenn asked suspiciously.

“Sam.” Dany said.

“The piggy boy?” Pyp asked.

Dany glared at him, “Don’t call him that. He’s my friend. And I want you both to look out for him and help him train.”

“But he’s a coward.” Grenn said pointedly, “If the brothers see us with him, they’ll think we’re both cowards.”

Dany set down the bucket on the ground and folded her arms, “I’ll look out for Mila and you’ll look out for Sam. Not that I need any reason to not look out for her. I’ll train her to defend herself from anyone who tries to harm her again. But you have to do the same for me. No one touches Sam.”

Dany held out her hand to Pyp, “Deal?”

Pyp tweaked his lips as he looked between Grenn and Dany’s hand. Grenn shrugged.

Nodding, Pyp took her hand, “Alright, Snow. We’ll keep an eye out for Lord Pig – I mean, Sam.”

Dany smiled and then said with a genuine tone, “Glad to hear it. I am sorry about what I did to your nose yesterday, though.”

Grenn laughed, “I think it’s an improvement.”

Pyp looked like he was about to say something in retort but then laughed instead.

Dany felt her heart warm at their laughter. Despite the icy, hard welcome she had received at Castle Black, slowly she was starting to feel like she could feel at home here. It was true that her expectations of what life at the Night’s Watch would be like was completely and horribly wrong, but she was dead set on proving herself to her sisters and brothers at the Wall.

_Sam… Mila… Pyp… Grenn…_

Her list of allies was growing but she knew that so would her list of enemies. Dany wondered how she would ever learn to trust each and every person at Castle Black but she knew that if that was to be her duty, she would do it without question.

In a few days’ time, she would swear the oath and then, she would be one of them. She was ready. She knew she was. But would anyone bother to see the same? Dany didn’t know. But she could only hope and pray that she would be seen as much more than just ‘Lady Snow’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask me your questions if you have any! Also, I know you all might think Dany taking on 3 guys is unrealistic but this is fantasy world and to me Dany is kinda like a Xena/Atomic Blonde/ Black Widow character okay? LOL. Besides, I did Google that trained women can beat untrained men... sometimes. So just roll with it.
> 
> And Jon's scenes I took inspiration from watching Starz Spartacus basically kinda like Crixus/Lucretia thing with a Handmaiden's Tale spin. I did get asked about the infertility- Drogo has it for now but I'm excited to see how it will go for Jon in this tale. 
> 
> Thank you again for your reviews and feedback and questions. This is an insane AU but I'm having so much fun despite the ludicrous ideas my head is spouting. More questions regarding Night's Watch with women may be explained in later chapters. LOL.


	4. A Golden Crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany sees the top of the Wall for the first time. Jon has a reversal of fortune and makes a fatal decision.

Several weeks had passed as Khal Drogo's khalasar made its way eastwards to Vaes Dothrak. Jon was quickly picking up the Dothraki language , assisted by his tutor Ser Jorah. As they passed through various villages and cities, Jon was front in line for the raids and attacks. He didn’t relish any of it. Luckily for Jon, as time had passed, the Khal was willing to turn a blind eye when Jon chose not to participate in the pillaging and rapes after killing the defenders or armed men of the village. As much as he possibly could, Jon took many prisoners alive which pleased Khal Drogo as his khalasar swelled in number.

Taking down rival khalasars was more palatable to Jon as he was in his element as a warrior. The Dothraki gave him the nickname [“The Silver Beast”] due to the ferocity in taking down his opponents and the color of his hair.

A few nights in a week, Jon would be summoned to the Khaleesi's tent to fulfill his other command. As Jon grew to learn the Dothraki language, it became much easier to converse with the Khaleesi. Jon prayed for nights when the Khal would lay with his other wives as this would mean he could spend the night with Val.

Jon started to look forward to these nights more than he expected he would. No longer did they need to rush their coupling whenever he came to her. Sometimes she would give him some fruit or a few slices of choice meat from a roast that she had set aside just for him. He would make her laugh as he struggled with his Dothraki but she was also a patient teacher. Jon taught her a few words in the common tongue as well. He didn’t want to admit it but Jon felt he was slowly falling in love with the Khaleesi and he could feel that she felt the same towards him too. This manifested for the first time when he wasn’t summoned for the night but he decided to head towards her tent anyway.

As he drew near, he could hear the Khal’s deep grunts and the sounds of her small cries. It made Jon's stomach turn and his fists clench. It took all of his might to walk away from her tent. Jealousy was a new feeling for Jon and he didn’t enjoy it one bit. This however did not affect his feelings towards Val, after all, she was doing what was commanded, just as he was.

One morning, as Jon washed his face and arms at a nearby stream, he was approached by Qotho, one of Khal Drogo's bloodriders.

“[The Khal summons you.]”

Jon nodded curtly and stood to follow him. They made their way to the Khal's canopy and Jon was surprised to find Val there as well along with her handmaids and Drogo's other wives. Jon looked at Val and saw that she was beaming and she smiled at him with tears in her eyes.

“[My Khal]” Jon said respectfully, bowing his head.

Khal Drogo stood from his seat and Jon looked up with surprise as the Khal patted his shoulder.

“[You have done well. No other Khal in the Dothraki Sea commands as many slaves and as large a khalasar as I. And as my greatest weapon, you have given this to me… and to my son.]”

Jon’s eyes widened with disbelief as he looked back at Val. She gazed at him softly as she placed a hand over her stomach.

 _I have a child… I’m a father…_ the thoughts raced through Jon's mind.

“[I have a gift for my Silver Beast.]” the Khal’s voice broke Jon's thoughts and he held out his hand to one of his bloodriders who brought forward a newly crafted _arakh_ wrapped in animal skins.

Jon took the _arakh_ from the bloodrider’s hands and held it up to the light with awe.

“[You honor me, Great Khal]” Jon said humbly though still in shock.

The Khal looked pleased, “[You will have a horse as well and you will ride behind my bloodriders. No longer will you be chained and whipped.]”

“[Let me braid his silver hair, my Great Khal. To show the victories he has won in your name.]” Val said with a proud smile. Her status, greatly increased now that she was with child, gave her the confidence to speak out loud.

The Khal looked at his young Khaleesi and nodded, “[As you wish.]”

Then turning back to Jon, the Khal said, “[When my son is presented to the Dosh Khaleen, I will give to him the greatest khalasar in the world. He will be Khal over all of the Great Grass Sea… and over lands across the poison waters.]”

Jon gave the Khal an intense and wary look, “[And my brother? What will you give him?]”

The bloodriders snickered at Jon's words and the Khal smirked. To Jon's surprise he responded to Jon in the common tongue, “Crown for King.”

But the way he said it and the laughter of his bloodriders made Jon doubt that the Khal was actually going to give his brother the Iron Throne or the Seven Kingdoms.

Jon left the Khal's canopy in deep thought as he held his new blade in his hands. Despite Drogo claiming it, the child in Val's womb was Jon's. Though Jon didn’t believe in prophecies, perhaps there was some truth to this one. He didn’t mind if the child was a girl but if he did have a son who would go on to conquer the world… that was something he had never cared of thinking about before. Jon wanted to feel joy at the thought but instead he felt an odd sense of dread.

Then he pondered on Khal Drogo's words. What did he mean when he said “crown for king”? Was he going to give Viserys a crown?

All these questions and more troubled Jon as he walked through the camp.

* * *

Later that day as Jon sat on the ground outside his tent sharpening his new weapon with a whetstone, a familiar pair of feet approached him and he looked up with a smile.

"[I've come to braid your hair, my Silver]." Val stated with a soft smile. In her arms, she held a set of Dothraki gear and garb, "[I also made these for you. If you are to be the Khal's prized warrior, you should look like one.]"

Jon gave her a slow nod and she laid his new clothes beside him as she sat behind him to braid his hair.

"[Why didn't you tell me? About the child?]" Jon asked as he felt her fingers gently comb through the gnarls and tangles at the end of his silver hair, which had grown quite a length since he had left Yunkai.

"[I only knew this morning. I had missed my moon blood for some time now but I wasn't sure until my handmaidens said so.]" she explained as her fingers moved swiftly through his hair.

"[Will it be a son? How do you know?]" Jon asked.

"[It is known. It's what was foretold.]" She replied with certainty.

"[If it is a boy... he will be our son... my son.]" Jon said as he ran the whetstone forcefully down the blade.

Val turned him so he could face her as she shook her head, "[No, my Silver. This is the Khal's son. The Stallion who Mounts the World.]"

Jon clenched his jaw and looked away.

As Val finished his braid quietly, she slowly stood up and walked in front of him. She bent down to caress his face, "[The Khal will allow you to visit me tonight. Will you come?]"

Jon forced a smile and nodded. Val grinned as she turned and walked back in the direction of her tent.

As she left, Jon picked up the clothes she had left for him and ran his hands over the brown leather garb.

It didn't take long for him to change into the clothes she had brought as it left most of his upper body bare. He adjusted the straps of leather on his wrists when another person approached him.

"I have the eggs, for you, my Prince." Ser Jorah held out to Jon a bulging sack.

Jon nodded his thanks as he took the sack from him and laid it in his tent.

"It suits you. You look like a true horse lord." Ser Jorah said admiringly, "I heard the news."

Jon glanced at the knight, "Yes, the Khal is going to have a son. _My_ son."

"You can't let your emotions cloud your judgements and determine your actions, my Prince. I understand it's difficult for you to allow another man to claim your child but--"

"Yes, I know Ser Jorah. It's what we need to do to survive." Jon interrupted irritably, "The Khal has given me a new blade and a horse. I'm no longer chained. I can kill him if I wanted to."

"That wouldn't be wise. Khal Drogo is one of the strongest and best fighters I know. Even better than you, I'm afraid to say." Ser Jorah replied. "And what of the young Khaleesi?"

"What of her?" Jon asked.

"If you were to attack the Khal, what do you think would become of her?"

Jon turned his eyes away. Once again, Ser Jorah had a point. The Khal was the reason Val was treated like a goddess among his people. She would be the mother to the Khal's son. The first and only child to be conceived. If the Khal were to die, his bloodriders or other _kos_ or captains would kill or rape her the first chance they got or at least lay claim to her, she would be the mother of their prophesied savior after all. And who wouldn’t pass a chance to be a father to a god?

"I heard the bitch you've been fucking is pregnant." A snide voice said loudly.

Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "Yes, the Khaleesi is with child. The Khal will have his son soon."

"And I will be getting my army." Viserys responded with a smirk which turned to a look of disgust as his eyes looked Jon up and down. "Gods. Look at you. You're looking more and more like these savages every day, especially in those rags."

Jon was tempted to swing his _arakh_ into Viserys' face but he kept his temper. As much as he hated it, his brother was right. Viserys was their only chance of ever going back to Westeros and if the Khal was true to his word, it would be Viserys commanding the Dothraki and not Jon.

"Why do you continue to travel with these 'savages' then, brother? You could have gone back to Pentos with Illyrio. I'm sure it would be more comfortable for you there." Jon stated derisively.

"And let you walk away with my army? Don't think me a fool, little Jon. I'm here to ensure that promises are kept and the bargain is fulfilled. I gave Drogo a silver-haired slave to fuck his whore and fight for his barbaric tribe and all I want is what is owed to me." Viserys responded as he drew his sword from its sheath and pointed it at Jon.

Jon noticed this wasn't Viserys' regular sword. It was much larger than his previous one and it looked ill-suited in Viserys' hand as if it was made for a greater man than he. A ruby stone glowed from the tip of the hilt, the ends of which were two silver dragon heads. The longsword was made of Valyrian steel and Jon could tell just by the make of it that it was ancient and forged from dragonflame.

Viserys grinned when he caught Jon's attention, "Do you like my new sword, little brother? Illyrio had this sent to me a few days ago from Volantis. After years of searching, I finally found it and it is mine now."

"Blackfyre?" Jon asked as Ser Jorah gazed in wonder at the renowned weapon.

"The blade wielded by Aegon the Conqueror himself when he took the Seven Kingdoms, as I will when that barbaric cunt gives me the army and the money that I need to buy ships and weapons. Westeros will be in Targaryen hands once again, dear brother. You should be thanking me." Viserys said as he sheathed the sword.

"That sword was said to be lost for many years. How did Illyrio come by it?" Ser Jorah asked.

Viserys glared and retorted, "It doesn't matter how that old buffoon found it. What matters is that it's mine. The sword meant to be held by a Targaryen King and Conqueror."

"Yes, Your Grace." Answered Jorah.

"Now that your Dothraki bitch has her little mongrel, you better start saying your goodbyes, little Jon. We are going home." Viserys said with a parting smile as he walked away. Blackfyre hanging low on his sword belt.

Jon gritted his teeth as he glared at his brother’s back, "He isn't fit to wield that blade."

Jorah put a hand on his shoulder, "Let him wield it for now. There may be some truth to what he says, maybe this is the one chance we have for home."

Jon sighed and shook his head, "Is that what you want more than anything, Jorah? Home?"

"It's what I pray for every night, my Prince." Jorah answered honestly.

Jon nodded slowly, "I pray for it too. But my brother does need an army to conquer Westeros, whether that's Dothraki or something else. And with Blackfyre in his hand, perhaps it will make people respect him or fear him enough to fight for him."

"And maybe that's enough to hope for, for now." Ser Jorah stated.

"Yes, for now."

Jon sat on the ground and resumed sharpening his blade, Ser Jorah sat next to him and untied his sword belt from his waist.

"Do you think Magister Illyrio might have gotten the sword from the Golden Company?" Jorah asked.

Jon's eyes immediately grew wider as he looked at Jorah, "You know about the Golden Company?"

Jorah nodded, "Yes, I spent a few months with them in Myr when I was newly exiled. You can make decent gold from being a sellsword but it wasn't a suitable life for me."

"Did you know a man by the name of Jon Connington? Was he alive when you were with them?"

"He was." Jorah answered, "But last I heard of him, they say he drank himself to death somewhere in Lys."

A grim look passed Jon's face as he set down his whetstone and _arakh_ on the ground beside him _._

"Are you alright? You grew quiet." Jorah asked curiously.

"Do you know why my brother calls me 'little Jon', Ser Jorah?" Jon asked in a low voice.

"I didn't think it was my place to ask that question, my Prince." Jorah replied.

Jon smiled a little somberly, "People would think a more appropriate nickname for an Aegon would be Egg like my ancestor, Aegon V. But not for me."

Jon took a deep breath, "When we fled Dragonstone, my brother and I were under the care of Ser Willem Darry and... Jon Connington who were loyal men to my father. We lived in Braavos for a few years. I can still remember the house we lived in. It had a red door and there was a lemon tree in the garden. Back then, Viserys wasn't cruel to me, he told me stories of our House and the history of Westeros – at least as much as he knew about it."

"Ser Willem was old but he was kind and Jon... Jon taught me how to hold a sword for the first time. Viserys never liked swordplay and he almost always kept to himself. But I was different, I wanted to learn how to fight and when Jon gave me my very first sword, I knew I wanted to be like him." Jon smiled at the memory of it, of years long past that the images blurred in his mind as he tried to recall them.

"I followed him everywhere, did whatever he did, talked like him, dressed like him. Pretty soon, almost everyone we met thought he was my father, they even started calling me "Young Jon or Little Jon" or even just "Jon" and the nickname stuck." There was a touch of sadness in Jon's voice as he continued, "I was only ten when Ser Willem died of a fever. Immediately afterwards, the servants and guards left us and the usurper's assassins attacked when they saw we were vulnerable. Viserys and I took what little we had and ran while Jon fought off the assassins. Viserys remembered the way to the home of one of the Braavosi lords who were loyal to us, and we sought refuge there."

"I waited for days, weeks. But Jon never came for us. Soon enough, we had to leave Braavos to find some other magister or rich merchant willing to take us in. We never saw Jon again. I had heard of his name when I met a sellsword in Lorath. They said he was with the Golden Company. I tried to track him down but then Viserys sold me to Yerzdan zo Yazrik in Yunkai as a fighting pit slave and I couldn't continue my search."

Jorah listened quietly to Jon's story and asked, "Do you think Jon Connington gave Illyrio the sword?"

Jon shrugged weakly, "I remember the stories Viserys used to tell me when we were younger. The last person to wield the sword was Daemon Blackfyre during the Blackfyre Rebellions. They said he took it with him when he was exiled to the Free Cities and founded the Golden Company. Perhaps the old griffin did give it to him."

Then Jon sighed, "Viserys is right. It doesn't matter how he got it. He has Blackfyre now and I... I have a Dothraki scythe."

Jon picked up his _arakh_ and stood up. He tied the blade to his side with a leather band. Feeling like he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, Jon picked up the sack with his dragon eggs from his tent and silently walked away from Ser Jorah who watched him leave with a curious gaze.

* * *

* * *

Dany wiped the sweat from her brow as she sawed the hunk of meat she held in her hand with a cleaver. She was grateful for the warmth of the ovens and hearth in the kitchens as a storm was blowing outside.

"Snow, there's a little half-man asking for ya." A girl called Nery said from the doorway.

Dany nodded, "I'm coming."

_What does he want with me now?_

Dany wiped her hands on her apron before she removed it. She then washed her hands in a basin and dried it with a cloth. She rolled back her sleeves down to her wrists and grabbed her warm fur cloak off a hook next to the door. Taking her leather gloves from the pocket of her coat, she hurriedly tugged them on as she stepped out into the cold.

Tyrion waited for her outside the door and gave her a small smile when he saw her.

"Lord Tyrion." Dany greeted with a short nod of her head.

"Dawn Snow. Come with me." The dwarf said as he turned to walk ahead of her.

Dany followed after him, wondering where he was taking her. She noticed that he was heading towards the lift that goes to the top of the wall.

"Women aren't allowed at the top of the wall." Dany said as she gazed at the lift up ahead.

Tyrion smirked, "We shall see."

As they walked towards the lift, just as Dany had expected, a brother walked in front of the lift to stop them.

"Apologies, my Lord Lannister but ya can't bring a woman--"

Tyrion held up a gold coin, "There'll be two more of these if you would be so kind to take the lady and myself up to the top."

The man glared, "You can't just pay to--"

"Fine, fine. Three of these then. Or if not, would you prefer your head decorated on a spike? I could tell my sister, the Queen about it." Tyrion threatened.

"The Lord Commander--"

"I've already spoken to the Lord Commander. Maybe you'd like to speak to him as well?"

The man shifted uncomfortably, "Three pieces and you come back down straight away."

Tyrion grinned, "Good man. Yes, of course. Won't take longer than a piss."

Dany wrapped her cloak tighter around her as she stepped into the wooden lift with Tyrion. Her heart started to race as the lift started to move up the wall of ice. Dany swallowed hard as she looked down, watching the figures of people grow smaller the higher they went.

"Are you afraid of heights, Dawn Snow?" Tyrion asked.

Dany shook her head, "No, my lord."

"Funny, neither am I. But then, as a dwarf, I hear about height jokes all the time."

Dany couldn't help but smile at the joke.

When they finally reached the top, Dany followed Tyrion as he made his way to one of the edges. Without warning, he pulled his pants down and started to do what he said he was going to do: piss right off the edge.

Dany turned away in embarrassment, "My Lord, you could give fair warning next time."

Tyrion laughed, "Never seen a dwarf piss before? I expect not. I am one of the few of my kind this far North. If I was born a peasant, they'd have left me out in the cold to die. Perhaps it was best I was born a lion of Casterly Rock."

When he had finish, Tyrion nodded to himself with satisfaction, "Another goal accomplished if I do say so myself."

"Why did you bring me up here?" Dany asked in a weary voice.

"Don't you want to see what it looks like beyond the Wall? It’s an astounding sight.” Tyrion said as he extended his hand towards the edge.

Dany swallowed hard as she slowly walked to the edge and she gasped. The Wall stretched on for miles and miles below her feet and to the east and west of her. It was freezing at the top but Tyrion was right. The view was magnificent. She gazed into the distance and wondered what did lie beyond the Wall. She was hearing talks of wildlings fleeing south and that the White Walkers had come again. But she didn’t know if any of it was true.

“A raven came from Winterfell today.” Tyrion stated.

Dany turned around quickly and gazed at him in anticipation, “Bran?”

Tyrion nodded but his face was grim, “He’s awake… but he’ll never be able to walk again.”

Dany felt a conflicting wave of emotions. On the one hand, she was relieved that Bran was awake but her heart ached at the thought of him never being able to run or stand or fight again. He wanted to be a knight. Dany closed her eyes and took a shaky breath to calm herself.

“I’m returning to King's Landing. I leave early tomorrow.” Tyrion said as he inched closer to one of the fire pits.

Dany opened her eyes to look at him, and for some reason she felt sorry to see him go, “I wish you a safe journey, Lord Tyrion. And… I wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“No one told me the truth about this place. No one except you. Not even my father or my uncle said anything to prepare me for any of this.” Dany said as she looked back beyond the Wall.

“At least you had someone prepare you. Even if it was just little old me. Think of that young girl you saved or her brother or his friend. All children of farmers sent to the Wall for stealing food they couldn’t buy because their mothers were dead or their father a lowlife drunk.” Tyrion said as he warmed his hands by the fire.

“How do you know about all this?” Dany asked as she glanced at Tyrion curiously.

“I talk. I enjoy talking. It’s what I’m good at. And talking usually lends itself to revealing important information about people. Commander Mormont told me a great deal about the new recruits and I also like listening to the Madam gossip.” Tyrion explained with a smile.

Dany walked close to the fire, “Will you stop at Winterfell on your way back?”

“I suppose. Not many feather beds between here and the Red Keep.” Tyrion answered.

“Will you tell Bran that… I miss him and I’ll come visit as soon as I can.” Dany said in a soft voice.

Tyrion nodded as he stepped back from the fire pit, “I will. Farewell, Dawn Snow. It was quite a pleasure being in your company.”

Dany nodded back, “Farewell Lord Tyrion.”

“Will you travel back down the Wall with me?” Tyrion asked.

Dany shook her head, “I think I’ll stay awhile longer.”

Tyrion laughed, “I knew you would.”

Dany held up her hand in goodbye as the dwarf made his way back to the lift. She didn’t know how long she had until someone would come up and force her down. But she didn’t care. As the cold winds blew, Dany stood as close as she could to the fire. But her eyes continued to stare at the blue horizon.

The sound of footsteps approaching made Dany cringe. The time she had to herself was too short.

“The imp said you’d be up here.”

Dany turned and breathed a sigh of relief, “Uncle Benjen.”

Benjen grinned at her, “I know you’re not allowed up here but I’m glad you got a chance to see it. I would have taken you up here myself if I could.”

Dany smiled back, “It’s magnificent.”

“Yes. Magnificent and deadly.” Benjen said as he stood beside Dany and looked into the distance.

“Are you disappointed in me, Uncle?” Dany asked after a moment of silence.

Benjen avoided her gaze, “You’ve always been a stubborn girl. Ever since you were little and yet somehow, you always got your way.”

“I just know that if I had the chance, I can prove I’m better than—”

“You’re not better than anyone.” Benjen interrupted her, a stern tone in his voice, “It’s not my place to lecture you, I’m not your father. But this isn’t Winterfell anymore and you aren’t a little girl. Here at the Night's Watch, you get what you earn and you’ve got a long road ahead of you.”

Dany turned her eyes away from her Uncle. She wasn’t expecting his harsh words but she knew he was right.

She felt Benjen’s hand on her shoulder, “I also wanted to tell you. I’m leaving in the morning.”

“Leaving?” Dany asked with concern as she looked up at him, “To go beyond the Wall?”

Benjen gave her a small smile, “I’m First Ranger. Out there is where I need to be. There’s been some disturbing reports coming back, reports I don’t want to believe. I have to find out the truth.”

“About the White Walkers again? The man Father beheaded said the same thing.” Dany said, remembering the execution.

Benjen nodded.

“I want to come with you, Uncle.” Dany said earnestly.

“No.” came Benjen’s firm answer, “Even being at Castle Black is dangerous enough for a girl, your place isn’t anywhere beyond the Wall.”

“But—”

“Enough, Dany.” Benjen said, his voice slightly raised.

Dany bit her lip but her eyes didn’t waver from her Uncle’s.

Benjen sighed and then pulled his niece into a hug, “We’ll talk more when I return. I can’t say how long I’ll be gone, but I’ll be back. I promise.”

Dany embraced him tightly, “You’ll miss the day I say my vows.”

Benjen pulled back to look at her, “I know. I’m sorry but I have to leave as soon as I can.”

Dany nodded sadly as she stepped back.

“Come.” Benjen said as he turned to head back to the lift. Dany gave one last look at the wintery landscape before she followed behind her uncle back down the Wall.

* * *

* * *

Jon was suddenly woken up by the smell of fire and screams. He scrambled out of his tent, his _arakh_ in his hand.

It was a surprise raid from another khalasar. They had attacked them in the night.

Jon felt his heart quicken. _Val._

Jon rushed towards the direction of her tent. On his way there, two men came whooping at him with their scythes in the air. Jon gave his battle cry as he easily avoided their attacks and sliced their throats and torsos open. Jon jumped over dead bodies as women, men and slaves rushed past him. A tent was on fire and Jon quickly ran past before it had collapsed on to the ground.

He was close to the Khaleesi’s tent. As he flung open the flap, he was relieved to find her on her bed surrounded by her handmaidens. They all had knives in their hands and they screamed when he entered.

“Jon!” she cried out.

“[Are you alright?]” Jon asked as he came to her and held her face.

“[You must find the Khal, you must protect him.]” Irri urged holding on to Jon’s arm.

Jon looked at the handmaid, “[What happened? Where is he?]”

Irri shook her head, she didn’t know.

“[Take her somewhere safe and hide. You can’t stay here. I’ll find you after.]” Jon told the other handmaidens who, though frightened, nodded.

The tent flap burst open again and Jon was relieved to see Rakharo.

“[Silver Beast!]” he cried as he saw Jon.

“Rakharo, [Where is the Khal?]?”

“[He was fighting Khal Orgo and his bloodriders by the river. I came to protect the Khaleesi.]” Rakharo responded.

“[Good. Guard her and the Khal’s son with your life.]” Jon commanded and surprisingly, Rakharo nodded.

Jon looked at Val and quickly pressed his lips to hers, “[I’ll return.]”

Val nodded, tears in her eyes as she pushed him, “[Go. Find the Khal.]”

Jon hated having to tear himself from her arms but he knew he had to find Khal Drogo. The chaos of the encampment was worse when he exited the tent. But Jon urged himself to make for the river. He cut down five more Dothraki rivals as he ran across the camp.

He finally found Khal Drogo and his bloodriders. They were outnumbered as Khal Orgo and his men surrounded them and pushed them towards the raging river.

Jon clenched his jaw as he hurdled over the rocks and gave a loud cry before he sped towards the group. It didn’t take long for Jon to cut off the heads of two men and the arm of another.

As he and Drogo’s bloodriders fought off seven other men, Jon could see in the corner of his eye, the Khal facing against four. Jon moved swiftly, cutting off one leg here and slicing another’s gut wide open.

With some of his opponents down and the others preoccupied with Drogo’s bloodriders, Jon turned his attention to the men fighting Drogo. But the Khal needed no help. He was weaponless but his quick dodges and spins were more than enough to give him the surprise advantage of grabbing two of the men’s head and smashing them into each other, breaking their skulls.

Jon could only watch in awe as Drogo faced one on one with the rival Khal. Khal Orgo swung his _arakh_ with such quickness that Jon feared he had cut Drogo into pieces. But Drogo laughed even when the blade had cut him multiple times. Drogo then grabbed Orgo by the throat and with Orgo’s own _arakh_ sliced open his chest and pulled out his bloody heart.

Just as that happened, another man suddenly came running up behind the Khal and before the Khal could turn, Jon was quicker and pushed the edge of his blade through the man’s neck. The enemy choked on his own blood before falling dead to the ground.

The Khal grinned when he saw Jon. Just then the Khal dropped down to his knees.

“[My Khal]” Jon said as he grabbed Drogo by the shoulders, “[You’re hurt.]”

Drogo’s other bloodriders rushed towards them.

“[Blood of my blood.]” Haggo whispered.

Drogo chuckled, “[Don’t stand there crying like women. This cunt of a khal cannot harm me. They are all small scratches.]”

His bloodriders tried to laugh with him but it was clear that many of the cuts on the Khal’s body were deep and there was a strange stench coming from his wounds.

“[We must get him back.]” Jon said looking at the Khal’s bloodriders.

They all nodded and together they carried Drogo back to the camp. Knowing Khal Orgo was dead, the rival khalasar fled quickly, afraid that Khal Drogo’s Silver Beast would come after them.

The bloodriders carried their Khal to his bed and were met by his wives including Val. They all gathered around him, chatting amongst themselves.

“[Leave me!]” The Khal growled ferociously and everyone grew silent, “[My beast, you stay.]”

The bloodriders flashed Jon a dark glance as everyone filed out of the Khal’s tent. They exited last once all the women had gone.

“[My Khal.]” Jon said as he knelt next to the Khal.

“[You fought well and… saved my life. You are a slave. You are not Dothraki. A foreign warrior. But I would have named you my bloodrider, if I could.]” The Khal said through gasping breaths. Jon looked at the Khal’s wounds and his suspicions were confirmed, the rival Khal’s _arakh_ was tainted with poison.

“[My son… my son is the Great Stallion. He who Mounts the World. He will have his khalasar. You must give him the khalasar.]” Khal Drogo said as he grabbed Jon violently by the leather vest he wore.

“[You must fight for my son. He is the… the Stallion… my son…]” the Khal breathed in agonizing gasps.

Jon could see the rays of the early morning sun start to permeate the outside of the tent. The Khal was going to die. Jon looked around to see what he could do but he knew that it was too late.

“[My son… will have the Iron Chair…. He will tear down the milk men in stone houses…. He will take my khalasar on wooden horses over the poison waters… The greatest khalasar…]”

“[Yes, my Khal.]” Jon said, the grip of the Khal’s hand on his vest was slowly loosening. Jon swallowed hard. Outside he could hear the sounds of blades and screams once again.

_They know the Khal is going to die. People will want to claim his khalasar. But this khalasar belongs to the Khal’s son… to my son…_

Jon held unto Khal Drogo’s hand as the Khal lay back on his furs and convulsed. Before Jon could call his name again, the life in the Khal’s eyes faded and he slumped his head unto his bloody chest.

_The Khal is dead…_

Suddenly, Jon heard Val scream and he immediately left the Khal’s side and rushed out of the tent.

“[Qotho! What are you doing? You cannot harm the Khaleesi!]” Rakharo shouted as Qotho held his _arakh_ under Val’s neck.

“[You are bloodrider to Khal Drogo, if he dies we die with him!]” Haggo urged as well.

No one took notice of Jon as he exited the Khal’s tent. Drogo’s khalasar gathered around the Khal’s tent and watched as the _kos_ and bloodriders of Drogo battled for the right to claim Khal Drogo’s khalasar.

“[Khal Drogo would have wanted us all to die. To cross the poison water like no khalasar has done before. It’s madness! He was cursed by a witch from a village of the lamb men, and he lay with a lamb as well! He would have brought ruin to us all!]” Qotho cried as he pressed his blade closer to Val’s neck which started to bleed. Then he saw Jon at the corner of his eyes and Qotho seethed at him.

“[And this foreign man with the silver hair. He is a slave and yet Khal Drogo would give him a horse and promises lands to his brother. The horse bows to no slave or lamb. Khal Drogo is not fit to lead this khalasar!]” Qotho continued, his voice growing hoarse.

Jon tightly gripped his blade. Val whimpered as Qotho glared wildly at him.

“[The dragon feeds on horses and lambs alike. Would you test the dragon?]” Jon threatened roughly as he stared fiercely at Qotho.

Before Qotho could make a move, a sword came through his mouth and as Qotho dropped his blade, Val ran into Jon’s arms crying.

Ser Jorah pulled his sword from the dead man and looked up at Jon.

Jon nodded his gratitude and looked at Val, “[Are you alright]?”

She nodded and buried her head in his chest. Jon looked around and noticed everyone looking at him and Ser Jorah.

Jon gently moved Val behind him and looked around at Drogo’s khalasar which he knew was at the point of breaking apart.

_My son’s khalasar…_

“[THE KHAL IS DEAD]!” Jon announced. The Khal’s other wives cried loudly in grief as well as other women in the crowd.

“Ser Jorah,” Jon said in a low voice as he drew near to the knight and grabbed his arm, “I need you say my words in Dothraki for me.”

Ser Jorah bowed his head obediently.

Many of the men held their blades up towards Jon, including Drogo’s bloodriders.

“My name is Aegon Stormborn of House Targaryen. The blood of the dragon and Old Valyria is in me. I am the son of the dragon. I am no horse lord. I am not Dothraki. I came to Khal Drogo as a slave but he set me free for saving his life. This khalasar belongs to his son and I will give this khalasar to his son… who is now _my son_!” Jon cried out in a strong, commanding voice.

The men and women around them gasped and whispered amongst themselves as Ser Jorah interpreted his words for them.

“Any man here who wants to claim this khalasar, step forward and fight me!” Before he finished speaking, two men ran up to Jon, their blades waving high above their heads as they leaped towards him. Jon cut them both down in three quick strokes of his _arakh_.

“I will claim each one of you!” Jon yelled, as another man came forward with two daggers and Jon cut off his leg and slashed his face.

“Each man! Each woman! Each child! Each horse! Each slave!” Jon roared as he efficiently ripped his blade through each man who came forward to challenge him.

“No man or beast will harm you. And I will have the heads of those who do!” Jon declared viciously, the blood of the twenty men he killed dripped down his face and arms, staining his clothes and pooling by his feet. His blade was bathed in red.

“Follow me and I will fulfill Drogo’s promise to my son and to you. You will be the greatest khalasar of this world and, my son, the Stallion who Mounts the World will lead you to conquer the Great Grass Sea and lands beyond the poison water!” Jon avowed as he held up his _arakh._ The morning sun rose up behind the horizon and bathed Jon in the warm, orange glow of the dawn. The blood on his body glistening as his fierce purple eyes stared hard at the khalasar.

The crowd in awe whooped and yelled in approval as all those who challenged Jon lay dead on the ground. Jon turned to face Khal Drogo’s remaining bloodriders.

“Haggo, Cohollo. You have been faithful bloodriders to Khal Drogo. I know you mean to follow him into the Night Lands, but swear to me and be the blood of my blood. We will hunt down what remains of Khal Orgo’s khalasar and I will give you great rewards beyond your dreams.” Jon promised as he walked towards them. Ser Jorah muttered the translation to the men.

Hagoo and Cohollo immediately went down to their knees.

“[Blood of my blood].” They said in unison.

Jon then turned to face Rakharo who gazed at him in fear and stepped back, “Rakharo, you fought well and you defended the Khaleesi. For that I will always grateful. You will be my third bloodrider and you will be what Qotho wasn’t.”

Rakharo kneeled before Jon, “[Blood of my blood].”

Satisfied, Jon turned to Ser Jorah, “Thank you, Ser Jorah.”

“Let me see him! What’s going on?” Jon heard Viserys cries from the back of the khalasar.

The crowd parted and Viserys’ violet eyes widened in shock and anger when he saw Jon covered in blood and the bodies of Dothraki men lay around him.

“What did you do?’ Viserys growled, spit dripping from lips.

“Ser Jorah, take my brother back to his tent and have two men watch over him day and night. He is not to be harmed. You understand?” Jon ordered.

Ser Jorah nodded, and he relayed Jon’s orders. Two Dothraki men grabbed Viserys by the arms and led him awsy as he flailed.

“What will you do next, my Khal?” Ser Jorah said. Jon was at first taken aback at the new title but he hardened his mouth.

 _The Dothraki follow strength_ , Jon recalled Ser Jorah’s words, _So I will be their strength._

“I will build a great pyre for Drogo and send his soul to the Night Lands. I will take the khalasar to Vaes Dothrak, give Drogo’s two wives to the Dosh Khaleen and I will take Val as my Khaleesi. She will bear my son, the Khal’s son, the Stallion who Mounts the World and I will vow to protect them both before the Mother of Mountains.”

“You believe in Dothraki prophecies now?” Ser Jorah asked.

Jon turned around walked towards the Khal’s tent, “This khalasar belongs to my son, Ser Jorah. The Khal’s last words to me were to fight for him, to protect him, to give him what he was promised. My son is also blood of the dragon, as am I, as is my brother, and we take what is ours with fire and blood.”

 “And your brother?”

Jon lifted his head, blood dripping from his cheek, “When my son is born, I will give my brother what was promised, a Dothraki army to take back the seven kingdoms.”

“Truth, now.” Jorah said urgently, grabbing Jon’s shoulder before he could walk away, “You never believed your brother to be the rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms before, why the sudden change?”

“I will be father and a husband soon, Ser Jorah.” Jon responded seriously, “And I command the largest khalasar of the Dothraki sea. These are my people now. I have a responsibility to them.”

Without another word, Jon called for his bloodriders and they entered into Drogo’s tent together.

* * *

“You look tired, my Khal.”

Ser Jorah approached Jon who was sitting at the front of the room. The sound of drumbeats and the heavy footfalls of the dancers thundered in the large wooden hut.

“The last time I heard this music and saw these dancers, I was still a slave. And now, here I sit, a Khal with my Khaleesi by my side.” Jon stated, though his tone was grim.

“You don’t sound too happy.” Ser Jorah observed.

They had already spent several days at Vaes Dothrak after burning Khal Drogo’s body a fortnight ago.

Khal Drogo’s funeral pyre was the largest and most elaborate the Dothraki had ever seen. The flames roared high into the night sky. The wail of women was the music that accompanied the burning flames. Jon had stood watching the fire with Val by his side. Tears streamed down her face as she held her growing belly.

But now here they were, finally. Jon recalled passing the Horse Gates and marveled at the giant horse statues that towered over them. Dothraki from other tribes and khalasars gazed in amazement at this silver haired warrior leading the khalasar that once belonged to Khal Drogo. But Jon’s reputation had preceded his arrival and everyone knew the story of the slave that became Khal. They also knew what happened to Khal Orgo’s khalasar when the Silver Beast and his bloodriders found them. Their limbs were torn and left to rot in the sun for the vultures to feast on.

That morning, Jon had presented Valii to the Dosh Khaleen. She had eaten an entire horse’s heart and the Dosh Khaleen proclaimed that their son would be the “khal of khals” and “all the peoples of the world will be his herd”. Jon had held up his wife with pride and carried her high above his khalasar who cheered for her.

It had been a long day. He was happy but somehow, a restless feeling stirred in him. He glanced to his side.

The dragon eggs that he had long hidden, were now displayed out in the open. He had a wooden box made and filled it with precious stones upon which the three dragon eggs were lain on. Jon’s nights were less restful than he had wished. Despite having Val by his side, he felt all alone. His dreams were a frenzy of fire, blood, dead men and dragons bursting from the moon.

For a few nights now, he would spend hours just gazing at the dragon eggs. Watching the fire glow and reflect on the hard surface of the shells. Val would try fruitlessly to make him eat or sleep or lay with her. But Jon did all those with her more reluctantly than he had wanted. He was Khal now, Val was his queen and yet he felt more unfulfilled than ever.

“AEGON!!!” a voice yelled out from the entrance of the hut.

Jon and Ser Jorah looked up and saw Viserys stumbling in. He had Blackfyre in his hands and it was wet with fresh blood.

“WHERE IS MY BROTHER?” Viserys yelled.

“Go to him, Ser Jorah.” Jon said quickly as he stood up. Jorah nodded but as the knight approached him, Viserys held up the sword to Jorah’s face.

“Step away from me, Mormont. Or would you taste Blackfyre’s steel as well?” Viserys growled. Jorah held his hands up as he stepped back.

“[It’s forbidden to draw blades here, my Khal. Shall we take him?]” Cohollo asked.

“[No. Don’t touch him.]” Jon ordered as he kept his eyes fixed on his brother.

“There you are!” Viserys said when his own eyes found Jon.

“What did you do, Viserys?” Jon asked.

Viserys laughed cruelly, “You think you can cage a dragon? You think two of these savages would be enough to hold me? ME! Viserys Targaryen, Third of my name! King of the Seven Kingdoms!”

Judging by the way he spoke, Jon knew that his brother was drunk. He must have gotten his guards drunk as well and then killed them when they nodded off.

“You think that just because you murdered Khal Drogo that you can just walk away with MY ARMY?” Viserys hissed as he walked towards Jon.

“I didn’t murder Khal Drogo.” Jon said firmly.

Jon’s bloodriders and men drew close to his brother but Jon held up his hand to stop them.

Jon gazed at his brother as he attempted to keep his voice calm, “Viserys, I know that I have every reason to hate you just as you have every reason to hate me. I killed our mother when I was born, I know you’ve hated me for that. If I had been born a girl, perhaps things between us would have been different. But things _are_ different now. I want to make things right between us. I promise you, after my son is born, I will give you your army. Ten thousand of my men to fight for your right to reclaim the Iron Throne.”

“Ten thousand?” Viserys spat, “Less than half of what I know you have! You would give me the crumbs of your barbaric litter?”

“It will be more than enough to retake Westeros.” Jon answered, “I promised my son before the Mother of Mountains that he will have the greatest khalasar on the Dothraki Sea and—”

“Do you think I care about the promises you made to the mutt of your whore?” Viserys screeched as he turned his gaze to Val sitting on a cot on the ground closer to him than to Jon.

“Perhaps if your brat was all you cared about, I can cut it out right here and leave it for you while I take the rest of my army.” Viserys sneered as he stepped forward a few paces and held the tip of his bloody blade to Val’s protruding stomach.  

Jorah walked towards him, “Put the sword down, Your Grace.”

Viserys glanced back at him and smirked, “Not until I get the crown that Drogo promised me. He may be dead but that doesn’t mean the bargain is. I want my brother to give me the whole khalasar, all forty thousand of them, and only then will I leave him and his pregnant bitch alone to die in this fucking desert.”

Viserys then turned his gaze back to Jon.

As Jon and Viserys stared intensely at each other, cold violet eyes meeting dark purple ones, the room was silent save for the crackling of the fire pit where a stew was boiling over.

Jon then remembered Khal Drogo’s words when he had asked him about Viserys and he finally understood what those words had meant.

_Crown for King…_

“You’re right, Viserys.” Jon said as he turned and walked to the fire pit. He muttered softly a few words to the women who sat close to the fire, watching over the stew. They immediately scattered away. Jon poured the stew out onto the dusty ground.

“Khal Drogo did promise you a crown. He told me so before he had gifted me with my _arakh_ and a horse. I was to ride behind him and his bloodriders. Since I came here to Vaes Dothrak to fulfill the promises I made to Khal Drogo, I will give you what you ask for. I will give you your crown. A bright golden crown that men shall tremble to behold.” Jon stated before he faced back to Viserys. 

Viserys smiled as he lowered Blackfyre from Val and pointed it towards Jon, “I knew you’d see things my way, little brother.”

Jon looked at Val to see if she was alright and he could see her fierce brown eyes gazing back at him. She gave him a small nod. Jon quietly gave his bloodriders a command.

It took Viserys a moment to realize his mistake. He should have kept his sword on the Khaleesi.

The moment he turned away, Jon’s bloodriders had quietly moved behind Viserys and at Jon’s order, they grabbed Viserys by the arms. Haggo breaking his right wrist caused Viserys to scream in pain as he dropped Blackfyre to the ground.

Rakharo brought forward a sack of gold coins which he poured into the cauldron that Jon had emptied.

“NO!” Viserys screamed, “NO! You cannot do this! I am the King! I am the Dragon!”

“I promised you once before Viserys, that I would have your head. I meant to break that promise, but it’s too late now. You told me to try, I hope you’re satisfied with my attempt.”

“[It is ready, my Khal]” Rakharo said from behind him.

“Jon! Jon please! I take it back! I take back everything! Jon please, stop them! I'll do anything! Anything! Make them let me go! JON!” Viserys pleaded, the arrogance and pride in his eyes extinguished and his voice became a high-pitched whine.

“I did love you, brother. A long time ago.” Jon confessed, a little sadness in his voice, “But you’re not that brother anymore. And I’m no longer your little Jon.”

Jon grabbed the bottom of the cauldron with his bare hands, the gold coins molten and bubbling.

“A crown for a king.” Jon echoed Khal Drogo's words in a passionless voice as he turned to face Viserys. “Farewell, brother.”

Viserys trembled and shrieked as Jon poured the melted gold unto Viserys' silver head. His screams lasted for a few moments until his body became still. Jon's bloodriders released him and Viserys’ golden face hit the ground with a loud thunk.

Jon tossed the cauldron to the ground and stared down at his dead brother. Jorah picked up Blackfyre from the ground and offered it to Jon. Jon looked at him and shook his head.

“Sheathe the sword and keep it in my tent. I won’t hold any blade while in this sacred city.” Jon stated.

Ser Jorah nodded and removed the sword belt from Viserys’ dead body.

“[Take him away. Bury him outside the city.]”Jon commanded his men.

“And so passes Viserys Targaryen. Third of his name. Another dragon brought to an untimely end.” Ser Jorah said wryly.

Jon’s dark purple eyes held a fiery shadow as he watched his men drag his brother's body out of the hut.

“He was never a dragon.” Jon uttered monotonously, “Fire cannot kill a dragon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it looks like I need one more chapter to wrap up Season 1/Book 1 storylines before I do the first meeting chapter between Jon and Dany.  
> I had to rush this chapter a bit in terms of condensing storylines, particularly Jon's, so I hope you forgive the pacing and leaps of logic. I did incorporate some book elements in Jon's story, and I'm really happy with this chapter in terms of Jon's Dothraki storyline.  
> In thinking of Dany's wildling storyline coming up, I don't think it'll deviate as much as Jon's story did/will in Essos, but we'll just wait and see what my brain thinks about.  
> Thank you again for your feedback, reviews and questions!  
> Hope you are enjoying the story so far.


	5. Fire and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Dany and Jon face the consequences of their choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Canadian Thanksgiving everyone! This chapter is a really long one, so please take your time with it. This chapter was also super fun and emotional to write, I kinda teared up at certain points which is really silly.  
> Anyway, next chapter will be the first of the season 7 scenes that I will interweave into this story and then we begin with Season 2/Book 2 next! Yay!  
> I hope you enjoy and thank you to you all for your support and for continuing to provide great feedback and reviews :)

“Good. Now, don’t forget to keep your arm close to your body. Don’t give your opponent a chance to knock your weapon out of your hand.” Dany coached as she stood beside Mila, guiding her friend’s arm in the right position.

Mila and Dany were in the back of a storeroom tasked with peeling potatoes but Dany had chosen to use the time to train Mila instead. Although Dany tried to keep her sessions with Mila as clandestine as possible, it was difficult to keep a secret at Castle Black. Soon Nery, Betha and Willa wanted lessons too. Other girls started to corner Dany for tips in self-defense, particularly the whores Floresca and Polly. Dany was having a difficult time keeping track of everyone she had promised lessons to and with limited locations to train them as well as trying to keep these so-called lessons secret was a demanding task on top of her other chores.

It had been a few weeks since Dany and her other new sisters took their vow. Dany had requested to swear in front of a weirwood tree, in keeping with the old gods of her family, and was granted permission by the Lord Commander. The women swore their oaths separately from the men. To Dany’s surprise, Mila had requested to accompany her to the weirwood tree a mile North of the Wall as well.

“You don’t even know the old gods, do you Mila?” Dany had asked her.

Mila shrugged, “The seven didn’t seem particularly keen on listening to my prayers. But maybe the old gods will.” 

Dany, Mila and two other girls were brought to the gates that opened out to the front of the Wall. Three brothers of the Night’s Watch as well as the Madam accompanied them. Dany was given permission to bring Ghost as well, for added protection. It had been an exhilarating experience for Dany to exit out of that gate and trek the mile towards the forest. She remembered glancing back at the wall of ice and marveled again at its magnitude and enormity.

Once they found the weirwood tree with its carved face, red eyes and seeping red sap, Dany and the other girls knelt before the tree. The oath they swore was similar to the men:

_“Night gathers and now my watch begins,_

_It shall not end until my death,_

_I shall take no husband, hold no lands, bear no children,_

_I shall wear no crowns and win no glory_

_I shall live and die at my post,_

_I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls,_

_I am the shield that guards the realms of men,_

_I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.”_

 

As Dany watched Mila practice her knife swings, Dany pondered on the words of their oath.

_Sword in the darkness, shield that guards the realms of men…_

These weren’t meaningless words. There was a time when women fought alongside the men instead of being delegated to mere housekeeping duties. Dany remembered the stories Old Nan use to tell them about the Long Night and the Night’s Watch. Women used to be fighters too.

Looking at Mila, Dany felt it more in her heart that training these girls wasn’t breaking the rules, it was helping them fulfill the vows they swore.

Just then a blonde head poked through the door of the storeroom, it was Nery and she grinned as she saw Mila swish her blade back and forth.

“You’re getting pretty quick there, Mila. You still slouch though.” Nery commented as she walked in with a basket of unpeeled potatoes.

Mila frowned and intentionally straightened her back, “I’m getting better.”

Nery turned to Dany, “The Madam’s asking for ya, Dany. I can finish up and maybe do some knife tricks with Mila.”

Dany nodded and she untied her apron and laid it on the stool in front of her.

“Alright. Just make sure you actually get some work done or Madam will have my head.” Dany said with a jesting tone.

Nery laughed, “It’ll be a warm summer day in Castle Black when she’ll stop havin’ your head, Dany.”

Dany chuckled along with her, “Maybe you’re right.”

“Maybe after knives, we can do swords? I know how to nick some off the armory.” Mila suggested as she thrust her knife forward.

Dany looked at her with a warning glance, “No. Thorne will really have my head if he finds out I put swords in your hands, even if they are just practice swords. I’m sure I’m in enough trouble as it is.”

Nery shrugged, “Old bugger won’t even know what hit him if it passed under his beak of a nose.”

The girls laughed at this and Dany started to make her towards the door. She paused to glance at the two girls and smiled to herself watching Nery and Mila chat about training with swords.

 _Maybe one day_ , Dany thought.

Dany exited the storeroom and made her way to the Madam’s quarters. She knocked on the door.

“Come in.” she heard the Madam’s croak.

Dany pushed the door open, “You sent for me, Madam?”

The Madam was standing in front of the hearth and turned to look at her, “Took your bloody time, Snow. The Lord Commander wants a word.”

The Madam gave Dany her usual sour glare and walked past her. Dany closed the door and followed after her. They walked in silence as the Madam walked towards the Lord Commander’s quarters on the other end of the Castle.

As they passed the courtyard, Dany spied Grenn, Pyp and Sam training. Dany hid a smile knowing that they had kept her promise to her. Sam still cowered whenever a sword came rushing at him, but he didn’t cry or flopped to the ground as much anymore.

Ever since they swore their oath, Dany didn’t get as much time with her sworn brothers as she would have liked. She knew Sam was delegated as Maester’s Aemon’s steward and spent most of his time in the castle’s ravenry, helping the Maester with sending and receiving messages across the realm. Grenn and Pyp were both made rangers and were usually at their posts atop the Wall or training. She normally ran into them in the mess hall when she had an excuse to scrub tables or clean up spills.  

Dany had to catch herself as Madam had stopped in front of a door and Dany nearly run into her back.

The Madam flashed her a quick glare and then turned to knock on the door.

The Madam opened the door and said in an unusually respectful tone that Dany had never heard the Madam use before.

“Lord Commander, I brought Dawn Snow to see you, my Lord.”

“Very good. Send her in.” came a gruff response.

The Madam turned back to Dany, and jerked her head towards the inside.

Dany quickly walked into the room and the Madam closed the door as soon as Dany had passed the threshold. Dany swallowed hard as she made her way cautiously into the room.

The Lord Commander was sitting at his desk writing on a piece of parchment. It was the same man who had stared intensely at her after her demonstration in the courtyard with the boys on her first day. His beard and what was left of his hair on his head were grey-white. He was a large, imposing figure even as he sat at his desk with his broad shoulders and stern eyebrows.

“Lord Commander.” Dany greeted as she stood in front of his desk.

The Lord Commander paused in his writing to look up at her, “Dawn Snow. There’s been much talk about you.”

Dany said nothing as she kept her hands behind her back but she held her head high.

The Lord Commander lifted an eyebrow, “Nothing to say about any of that?”

“It depends on what’s been said, my lord.” Dany responded.

He gave an amused grunt, “Madam said you were a cheeky one. Bring me some ale, girl.”

He nodded towards a jug of ale and a mug on an end table towards the side of the room.

Dany did as commanded and went towards the table to pour ale into a light brown wooden mug. She filled it to just below the brim and carefully brought It to the Lord Commander, setting it gently next to his papers.

“You’ve been causing quite a scene since your first day here. Taking on Ser Allister Thorne and the new recruits. Letting your wild direwolf loose in the women’s courtyard at night. Talking back to the Madam.”

“I do as I’m told, my lord.” Dany answered.

“Do you think you’re better than the men and women here, Snow?”

Dany remembered her uncle’s words to her when she last saw him, “I’m better than no one, Lord Commander. I’m a sworn sister of the Night’s Watch just like the others.”

“Aye.” The Commander replied, “And if what’s been told to me is true, you’ve been given training to your other sisters.”

Dany felt her muscles tighten but she tried to keep a straight face.

“I just want them safe, my lord. A knife in the hand can become deadlier if the one wielding it knows how to use it well and use it right.”

The Lord Commander nodded, impressed, “Well said, girl. And are you planning on putting swords and spears into their hands next?”

Dany remembered Mila’s jest about stealing swords and she felt her stomach turn, “No, my lord. But…”

She swallowed hard as she continued, “But I would like permission to.”

The Commander took a drink of his ale as he watched her.

“Why?” he asked.

Dany looked at him with a bold gaze and she prayed that her next words wouldn’t fail her, “I grew up on stories about the Night’s Watch, my lord. My father told me that serving as a member of the Night’s Watch is a great honor and I know there was a time when men would have gladly given up their life for the Night’s Watch. I also remember the stories of the women who fought beside them. Hannah the Strong, Polyta of the Vale and Maege the Mighty She-Bear. Women of the Night’s Watch who gave their lives to be the ‘swords in the darkness, watchers on the wall and the shield that guards the realms of men’. I know things are different now, but this wasn’t what the Night’s Watch used to be… and perhaps, there can be a chance for us to bring it back to the glory it once was.”

The Lord Commander pushed his chair back and stood up. He walked around the desk to look out of the window. Dany stared at him warily, wondering if she would be thrown out of Castle Black before nightfall.

“Maege the Mighty was of House Mormont, my great-great aunt.” Commander Mormont said in a low tone, “It was because of her that the wildlings have never attempted to attack Castle Black again for the last 50 years. My sister was named for her.”

Commander Mormont grew silent as he continued to gaze outside his window. After a few moments had passed, he stated, “The cook tells me you make a rather good chicken stew, Snow. None of the boys here can even boil an egg.”

Confused with the comment, Dany asked, “My lord?”

The Commander ordered, “You will remove yourself from the women’s quarters tonight and stay in the room closest to mine. You will bring my meals, prepare my bath, keep this room and all other duties I will assign to you.”

Dany’s eyes widened, “I—”

“That’ll be all, Snow. You are dismissed.” Lord Commander stated without looking at her.

“But…” Dany started to say but then stopped herself. “Yes, my Lord.”

She turned to leave and as she shut the Commander’s door behind her, she closed her eyes with a pained expression.

“So the bastard girl is once again somewhere she doesn’t belong.” A deep and cruel voice said.

Dany turned her head and noticed Ser Allister standing a few steps away from the Lord Commander’s door. He was looking at her with a malevolent glare and she bit back the words she wanted to say to him.

Dany decided to ignore him and was just about to walk past him when he grabbed her arm.

“You think that you’re safe because your father is Hand of the King and your uncle First Ranger? You still haven’t taken my offer of coming to the courtyard after dark without a weapon. Maybe you’ve found a true passion in scrubbing floors and peeling potatoes after all.”

Dany tugged her arm from his grasp forcefully, as she glowered back at him.

She turned her back to him and stormed away as quickly as she could.

* * *

* * *

 

Jon leaned his lips on his clasped hands as he gazed at the dragon eggs by the light of the fire.

He was woken again by another dream of fire and screams and, with sleep difficult to come by,  he resumed his usual activity of staring hard at the dragon eggs that stayed closed to his side.

“[My Silver…]” he heard Val murmur beside him.

He turned his head and smiled softly at her, “[Go back to sleep]”

She sat up, her long brown hair half hid her face, “[Your dreams? They wake you still?]”

Jon nodded honestly, “[But I’m alright.]”

 Val moved behind and rested her chin on his shoulder as she too looked at the eggs, “[Have you ever seen one?]”

Jon looked at the eggs, “[What? A dragon?]”

She nodded as she pressed her lips lightly to his skin.

Jon shook his head, “[The dragons are no more. The last one is said to have died many years ago and was smaller than a dog. These eggs are just stones, my love.]"

Val smiled, “[I would like to see one.]”

“[Me too.]” Jon responded, “[I dream of riding one.]”

“[Riding a dragon?]” Val asked, “[Like one would ride a horse?]

Jon nodded. “[My ancestors did too, many years ago when they came to Westeros]

Val looked at him, “[Westeros? Is that the land beyond the poison waters?]”

“[Yes, my love.]” Jon answered, [Lands that one day, our son will rule when he is Khal over all.]”

Val lay back down and ran her hand over her large belly. Jon bent over to press his lips to it and she giggled as she brushed his silver hair from his face.

“[I know his name.]” she said and Jon raised his head to look at her.

“[His name?]”

She nodded and then she pointed to the eggs, “Drogon”

Jon laughed and replied to her in the common tongue, “You mean, Dragon, my love. Dra-gon. Dra-gon.”

She frowned as she tried to pronounce the word right, “Drah-goon.”

Jon shook her head at how adorable she looked and kissed her on the lips, “I had thought to name our son Rhaego after my brother, Rhaegar. But if you want our first son to be called Dragon, so be it. Perhaps Rhaego for our next son, then.”

Val hit him on the shoulder, “[You talk so quickly. I can’t understand a word.]”

Jon laughed again, “[Forgive me, my love.]”

He kissed her forehead, “[Sleep now. You and our son need to rest.]”

Val yawned and nodded as she turned over and closed her eyes. When certain that she had fallen back to sleep, Jon turned his focus back to the eggs and picked up the one speckled green like an emerald. He ran his fingers over the rough patterns as he held the egg with his left hand.

Then without thinking, he dropped the egg into the fire pit beside their bed. He waited to see what would happen but the flames merely licked against the hard green shell.

Jon tentatively reached back into the fire pit to grab the egg, to his surprise, the egg still felt cool in his hands.

As he returned the egg to the box, he looked down at his palms. They were scarred and calloused but there were no signs of any burns. He remembered that even after he had taken the boiling cauldron of gold to pour over his brother’s head, his hands were unhurt afterwards. He wondered what it meant but just as he started to ponder over it, sleep started to weigh heavy on his eyes.

Stifling a yawn, Jon decided it was a thought for another day. He lay back on the bed and held Val in his arms, burying his face in her neck as he finally fell back to sleep.

* * *

 

“[Great Khal, a wine merchant wishes to speak with you.]” Rakharo said as Jon sat on his chair underneath his canopy.

Jon and his khalasar had been at camp for a few hours and some of his men were itching to do a raid on a nearby village. Despite not wishing to do so, Jon understood how important it was as part of the Dothraki way of life and it was his job as Khal to keep his men’s skills honed. However, he gave strict orders to only take what they needed and to not harm any woman or child who were unarmed. This order was not taken very well by many of his captains but Jon didn’t back down and said that if anyone had any issues, they should come to him.

As they camped, a caravan of merchants had also come their way and to avoid any bloodshed, the merchants were willing to part with their best wares.

Jon nodded at his bloodrider, “[Let him come to me.]”

A short man wearing varying layers of burgundy cloths came before him, bowing repeatedly, “[My Great Khal.]”

Jon held up his hand for him to stop, [“What brings you to me, merchant?]”

The merchant grinned and said, “I can speak in the common tongue, Great Khal. I know you hail from Westeros.”

Jon nodded his head and smiled cordially, “Speak freely then, my friend. What of your wines?”

The merchant brought to him an earthern jug, “You will not be disappointed my Khal. The Khaleesi will enjoy the taste of this as well, I hope! It is the finest Red of the Arbor. I guarantee it!”

Jon laughed, “The Khaleesi is full with child and cannot be here to taste your wares, good friend. But yes, it has been years since I’ve tasted wine from the Arbor. Pour me a glass.”

The merchant nodded excitedly and taking a cup from his satchel, he pulled the stopper from the jug and poured the liquid into the cup.

He handed the cup to Jon and Jon took it gratefully. As he was about to put the cup to his lips, Ser Jorah came running towards them.

“Stop!” Ser Jorah cried out as he ran to Jon’s side. Jon looked towards him and lowered the cup.

“What’s wrong, Ser Jorah?” Jon asked with concern.

Jorah glared at the merchant, “Have him taste it first.”

The merchant looked from Ser Jorah to Jon and he shook his head aggressively, “Oh no, Great Khal. A wine merchant never samples his wares else he finishes the entire cask and has no more to sell. And this, this is my best wine, my Khal! I would dishonor it with my lips if I drank of it!”

Jon narrowed his eyes and frowned, “Drink.”

“But, Great Khal….”

The sound of blades rang as Jon’s bloodriders drew their _arakhs_.

“Drink.” Jon repeated, holding out the cup to the merchant.

The man took the cup with shaking hands but he hesitated to drink it.

“Drink it now or I will pour it into your mouth after I’ve cut off your head.” Jon threatened.

The man trembled and hurriedly drank the wine. When he had finished he threw the cup to the ground.

“I’ve done it, Great Khal.” He said with a frightened smile.

Jon glanced at Jorah who continued to stare hard at the merchant.

All of a sudden, the merchant started to cough and sputter and he knelt on the ground as foamy bile filled his mouth. He was dead in seconds.

Jon was breathing hard as he looked down at the dead merchant.

“You’ve once again saved my life, Jorah the Andal.” Jon said as he motioned for his bloodriders to take away the man’s body.

“I live to serve you, my Prince. As I promised.” Ser Jorah responded.

Jon glared at the ground and closed his eyes, “I thought I would be free from the usurper’s assassins. I thought he would stop sending them especially now that my brother is dead. I take it his spies know about me now… that I live and that I have a wife who is pregnant with my son?”

“Robert won’t stop hunting you no matter where you go. He swore to have every last Targaryen wiped from the face of this earth. That includes your unborn son.” Ser Jorah responded.

“He will never take my son” Jon vowed with gritted teeth, “And he will never take me.”

Just then one of Jon’s Dothraki captains, Mago, entered the canopy.

“[My Great Khal.]” he greeted.

Jon looked up at him, his thoughts still preoccupied with Robert Baratheon.

“[Mago. Come forward.]”

Mago, a tall and young Dothraki captain with a long black braided beard walked forward, and as he did some of his men dragged a line of women and girls who were all tied to each other into the large canopy. Some as young as twelve, others as old as sixty. They were covered in dust and were clearly beaten on the way there.

Jon frowned and stood up, “[What is this? I had orders that no women are to be harmed.]”

“[These women are my slaves now, Great Khal. Just as you once were. To do with as I please. I’ve earned them and thought you might want to have a share.]” Mago responded with a smug sneer.

Jon growled, “[I will not play your games. Release them immediately!]”

“[A true Khal understands that this is the way of war. I’ve come here to remind you of that, Great Khal.]” Mago answered, his last words in an almost mocking tone.

Jon pulled Blackfyre from its sheath that was tied with a leather strap to his chair and held it up in his hand.

“[Are you even still our Khal?]” Mago challenged, unfazed at the display “[Even the weapon you draw is not our _arakh_ but a foreign blade]”

“[What matters will not be the blade that cuts your throat, Mago but the way in which it is cut.]” Jon snarled as he pointed the sword at the Dothraki captain.

“[The men are growing weary of your cowardice and weak stomach, Great Khal. They say you are too soft on the slaves and you forbid our men to mount the women we claim. I come to you with a warning, they will abandon you if you do nothing.]” Mago stated fiercely stepping towards Jon and allowing Blackfyre to pierce his shoulder, blood trickled down his chest.

Jon fumed and he grabbed Mago by the collar of his leather vest, “[Tell your men to let these women go or I will cut your cock and choke you with it.]

Mago grinned, [“At least I have a cock, Great Khal.]

Jon shoved him back and with one swift swing of his sword, Mago’s head rolled before the women who screamed as blood gushed from the severed head and Mago’s decapitated body collapsed on the ground.

Jon gripped Blackfyre hard in his hand as he glanced at Mago’s men, Mago’s blood splattered on his cheek, “[Let these women go. Now.]”

Mago’s men quickly obeyed and cut off the ropes around the women’s hands.

“[Great Khal!]” This time it was a woman’s voice.

Jon felt his head throb. There was too much happening in a span of a few moments. Two men already lay dead in his canopy and an hour had not yet gone past.

“[What is it now?]” Jon growled. Then he turned to find Irri standing next to him and there was blood on her hands and on her skirts.

Jon’s eyes immediately widened with fear, “Val?”

“[The baby is coming. But it’s too soon and something is wrong.]” Irri whispered, her hands were shaking.

Jon immediately grabbed Blackfyre’s sheath and tied it to his waist and was about to walk away when one of the women Mago had captured stepped forward.

“I can help, Great Khal. I want to repay you for your kindness in freeing us. I was a healer at my village and have helped many women through many difficult births.” the woman said in the common tongue. She was much older than the younger women in the line and her hair was black with grey lines.

Irri grabbed Jon’s arm and said in a hushed voice, “[She looks like a witch, Great Khal. I do not believe she can be trusted.]”

Jon swallowed hard, trying to decide but his heart was racing and his thoughts running wild.

“What is your name?” Jon asked as he sheathed the sword in his hand.

The woman bowed her head, “Mirri Maz Dhur, my Khal.”

“And you can help?”

“I hear the Khaleesi is Lhazarene, Great Khal. I am from a Lhazar village as well, I can speak her tongue and guide her through the birth.”

This seemed to satisfy Jon despite Irri’s protests.

“[Bring the woman to our tent. Give her whatever she needs.]” Jon commanded. Irri looked at him with pleading eyes but she bowed her head obediently and took the woman with her.

Jon looked at Ser Jorah, “Ser Jorah, take my bloodriders and ensure no other women are harmed. I want all the men back at the camp right now.”

“My khal.” Ser Jorah said as he relayed Jon's orders.

Jon quickly walked towards the direction of his tent. He saw people gathering around, murmuring in hushed whispers.

He could hear his wife shriek from the inside.

There was a strong stench of blood that greeted him as he entered.

His wife was drenched in sweat as her handmaids and the Lhazarene woman surrounded her.

“[What’s happening?]” Jon demanded.

“[My Khal, she’s bleeding too much...]” Irri said as she stood up and grabbed Jon's arms.

“[My Silver…]?” Val whimpered in pain.

Jon pushed Irri to the side as he knelt beside his wife and took her hand, looking at her helplessly.

“[I’m here. Tell me what I can do.]” Jon said softly, her hand was icy cold despite the sweat dripping from her skin.

“[Save our son… Drogon…Drogon…]” she cried as she yelled in pain.

“Your son is tearing the Khaleesi from the inside. We must take him out.” Mirri Maz Dhur said but then she grabbed the Khal's shoulder, “But she may die. And your son may as well.”

Jon looked at her with a wild and desperate gaze, “No. No. You must save them both.”

“That’s beyond my skills, Great Khal.”

“I don’t care! Take whatever you want. Gold, horses, whatever it is. You must save them.”

Val cried out again and Jon held her damp head to his chest.

“There is a spell. Some blood magic I know…” the woman said slowly.

“[No, my khal. Do not do this!]” Jhiqui, another of Val's handmaidens cried.

“[Leave us!] Jon ordered, the women looked up at him with fear in their eyes, [Out! Leave!]”

The handmaidens quickly exited the tent and Jon looked at the Lhazarene woman.

“If it saves her, I’ll do anything.” Jon said urgently.

Val whimpered in his arms.

“Some say death would be cleaner but if you wish. Only death can pay for life but the price for this will be great. If you can bring me your horse. His death may save your wife and son.”Mirri Maz Dhur responded.

Jon looked at his wife as she panted and groaned in pain.

“[Be strong, my love. You will not die. I won’t let you. Our son will be here when you wake.]” Jon whispered as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

“I love you.” Jon whispered softly to his wife as he stood up.

“Take this, my Khal. This may take awhile and you need your rest and strength for when this is all over.” Mirri Maz Dhur urged as she placed a bottle in Jon's hand.

Jon looked down at the bottle and without a second thought he drank the liquid inside. It tasted sickly sweet, like an overripe pear.

“Save her.” He commanded.

The woman started to chant a strange incantation as she held Val's head. Blood continued to pour out between Val's legs.

Jon staggered backwards, suddenly his head felt heavy and his vision blurred.

He stumbled out of the tent and as he came out into the bright hot sun, he noticed an even larger crowd had gathered.

“[My horse! Bring my horse into the tent!]” Jon cried out before falling on his knees.

“What have you done?” he heard Ser Jorah's voice.

“What I must. They cannot die.” Jon uttered, his words slurring.

Jon turned to look to his side as he heard a horse neigh wildly.

“What will they do with him?” Ser Jorah asked.

“His life will save my wife and son.” Jon murmured.

Ser Jorah grabbed Jon by the shoulder, “Are you certain this is what you want?”

“I have to save them.” Jon whispered. “Have to… save them…”

He heard the voices of different men. Some yelling, some threatening. He heard the sound of steel but before he could say anything, he felt darkness close over his eyes and his world turned black.

* * *

* * *

 

“He’s punishing me, Sam.” Dany muttered as she plucked feathers out from a chicken.

“He's not punishing you.” Sam answered as he grounded some herbs in a bowl.

It was a rare moment for Dany to get some time alone with Sam. But it just so happened that the cook was elsewhere and Sam had come down to prepare Maester Aemon’s tea.

“Yes he is. He took me away from the girls so I stop training them. He put me in a room close to his so he can keep an eye on me. Now I’m much closer to Thorne, Rast and gods know who else, who want nothing more than to rape or murder me the moment I let my guard down.” Dany ranted as she pulled each feather out violently.

Sam smiled with amusement, “You have quite a flair for the dramatic, Dany.”

“You think I’m exaggerating?” Dany asked in frustration.

Sam walked over to the fire and with a mitten took out the kettle. After pouring hot water into a tall mug, Sam returned the kettle and said to her, “I think this presents a hidden opportunity.”

“An opportunity for what? For the Lord Commander to use me as his personal slave?” Dany grumbled.

“Dany,” Sam said, a little seriousness in his voice this time, “Lord Commander Mormont has chosen you as his personal steward. That’s normally a task for one of the brothers but he chose you. Yes, you’ll be washing his clothes, bringing him his ale, keeping his room but you’ll also be receiving his messages, listen in on his councils and squire for him.”

Dany shook her head, “I’m a girl, Sam. Commander Mormont would be a fool to train me to be the next Lord Commander. There’s never been a Lady Commander in the Night's Watch. I doubt he would let me sit in his meetings much less hold a quill for him.”

Sam sighed, “Dany, you’re a smart girl, and you’re brave and strong. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Dany frowned as she lowered the half-plucked chicken to her lap, “All I’ve wanted was to fight for something bigger than myself. All my life, I’ve tried to prove myself to my father, my uncle… and look at me! Plucking chickens for an old man's supper. I’m better than this, Sam.”

“I know you think it isn’t fair Dany, but nothing’s fair for anyone else here. Not for me, not for Grenn, not for Pyp and Mila but we carry on.” Sam said earnestly.

All of a sudden they heard a horn sound from the outside. Dany and Sam turned their attention to the door.

“What was that?” Dany asked as she set aside the chicken and wiped her hands on her apron.

“Someone’s at the gate.” Sam answered.

Dany and Sam rushed outside the kitchens and they saw Commander Mormont and other brothers gathered in the courtyard.

A horse without a rider galloped out of the tunnel and Dany gasped, “That’s my Uncle Benjen's horse.”

She and Sam ran quickly to the courtyard. No one even noticed Dany in their midst. The horse had dragged in a sled that was tied to it’s saddle . On the sled were two dead bodies, their skin was bluish black and it seemed as if they had been dead a long time.

“We should burn them, my Lord.” Thorne said to the Lord Commander after they had looked over the bodies.

“These were the rangers who went missing four moons ago. Before you burn them, I want the bodies examined. Take them inside.” The Lord Commander ordered.

Two men carried the sled with the bodies away.

“Did you notice that?” Sam asked.

“Notice what?” Dany asked.

“The smell?” Sam said in a low voice.

Dany looked at him confused, “There wasn't a smell Sam.”

Sam looked at her intently, “Exactly.”

Dany turned her eyes from Sam to the riderless horse.

_Uncle Benjen…_

Dany moved towards the horse but before she could reach it she was stopped by a hand that grabbed the collar of her coat.

“And where do you think you’re going, bastard? Or should I call you a traitor’s bastard now?” Thorne growled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dany responded through gritted teeth as she tried to pull away but Thorne kept a tight grip on her.

“Oh, she doesn’t know. Haven’t you heard, bastard girl? Your father’s been imprisoned for treason. King Robert is dead and your father will soon lose his traitor head.” Thorne said with a cruel smile.

Dany's eyes widened with disbelief and she felt as if all breath had been knocked out of her. She turned her eyes to the Lord Commander and his steel gaze confirmed that what Thorne said was true.

“Are you going to cry, bastard? Because you won’t be there when your father’s head gets—”

Thorne was cut off when out from under her sleeve, Dany had pulled out her knife and slashed his cheek. Though the cut was shallow, blood dripped down Thorne's face and Dany moved a few steps backward with her knife in her hand.

“You fucking bitch. I’ll see you hang for this.” Thorne seethed as he brought his gloved hand to his face.

Dany held up her knife and was about to attack him again when Grenn and Pyp held her back.

“Don’t, Dany.” Pyp whispered into her ear as he gripped her wrists.

“Enough!” came the Lord Commander's bellow, “If I wanted children at the Night's Watch, I’d have the bastards in Mole's Town man the bloody Wall. Back to work! All of you!”

Grenn and Pyp released their hold on Dany and she fumed silently glaring at Ser Allister who turned his back to her and walked up the wooden stairway.

“Snow.” The Lord Commander said as he walked towards her with a hard gaze, “I thought you were smarter than that, girl. You're confined to your quarters. Go before I change my mind.”

Dany felt tears behind her eyes but she forced them down as she hurriedly walked away. She took a different route to her room and when she finally reached it, she slammed the door shut and banged her fists hard on the frame once it closed.

She then felt the flood of tears she had held back start to pour down her face as she sobbed into her hands.

_Father… Arya…Sansa..._

_The Lannisters have them and I can’t do anything to help them..._

_I’m here… Why did I come here…_

_Uncle Benjen… where are you... are you dead somewhere out there? Like those men..._

She made her way blindly to her bed and muffled her cries with the pillow as she sobbed herself to exhaustion and then finally to sleep.

* * *

 

Dany was awakened by the sound of scratching at her door and high pitched whines.

“Ghost?” Dany said in a groggy voice. She wiped the sleep from her eyes as she sat up. She stood up and opened the door to see her direwolf frantically pacing back and forth.

“What’s wrong? Is something happening?” Dany asked.

The direwolf whined in response.

Dany walked outside of her room with her knife in her hand. Thorne's blood still on the blade. Ghost rushed towards the Lord Commander's quarters and Dany felt her heart race.

As she ran to her direwolf, she noticed the Lord Commander's door was wide open. It looked like it got broken into. Dany rushed inside and she saw the Lord Commander pushed up against the wall next to the fireplace by a large figure whose hands were around the Commander's throat.

Dany came in and drove her knife repeatedly in the man's back. As the knife was buried deep into the shoulder blades of the attacker, he released the Lord Commander and turned to face Dany.

Dany gasped in horror. It was one of the dead men she had seen on the sled earlier in the courtyard. But this time his eyes were bright blue and black bile dripped from his lips. There was a hollow emptiness in his eyes and he said no words as he growled in an inhuman voice.  

He moved to grab Dany but she quickly sidestepped him and kicked him hard so he fell over a wooden chair. Dany turned to see if the Lord Commander was alright as she helped him up.

As the dead man stood on his feet, Ghost snarled and bit hard on the dead man's hand to keep him back. Dany spied the Lord Commander's lantern on the floor and grabbing it with her bare hand she threw it at the dead man. The lantern broke on his chest and engulfed his body in flames.

“Ghost! To me!” Dany cried out and Ghost tore off the hand of the burning man to run towards Dany and the Lord Commander.

“Move quickly!” Dany urged as she pushed the Lord Commander towards his bedroom. Dany gave one last look at the dead man who was writhing as he burned on the floor before she shut the door.

Dany was breathing hard and her hand stung from the burns she incurred from grabbing the lantern. She rested her back against the door in case the dead man would try to come in after them.

“That… that was Othor. He… he wasn’t dead?” The Lord Commander asked as he grabbed his throat where the dead man had held him.

Dany shook her head, “That man was dead, Lord Commander. Whatever that thing was, that wasn’t Othor.”

Ghost dropped the hand he had in his jaws and pressed his nose to Dany's leg. She slowly patted his head, “Good boy.”

“You saved my life, Dawn Snow. You and your direwolf.” The Lord Commander stated.

“I did what any brother or sister of the Night's Watch would do, my lord.” Dany responded.

The Lord Commander paced around his room, his face in deep thought.

Dany’s legs trembled so much, she sunk to the floor. Ghost nuzzled his face to hers and she buried her face in his furs as she held him. What she had just seen terrified her more than anything she had ever faced in her life.

She prayed that whatever was in the next room was dead… and would stay dead.

* * *

* * *

 

“My prince?”

Ser Jorah's voice seemed miles away as Jon tried to open his eyes. When finally the blurred images of his surroundings started to focus, Jon groaned. His head was throbbing and heavy as if he had just been caught in a stampede of horses. His limbs felt weak and his stomach turned as he felt liquid rush up his throat.

Jon rolled to his side and vomited on the dusty ground. As he spat more bile, he struggled to lift himself up.

Jon felt strong hands steady him and he looked up to see Ser Jorah. Jon realized he was on a thin bed of furs in a strange tent and it was eerily quiet outside despite it still being day.

“Ser Jorah…What happened? Where am I?” Jon asked in a hoarse voice as he grabbed on to the knight's metal armor.

Ser Jorah swallowed hard as he held on to Jon, “Many things have happened since you fell. Perhaps you need more rest before I—”

“No!” Jon cried gripping tighter on to Ser Jorah, “Where is my wife? Where is my son?”

Ser Jorah gazed back at him, sadness in his eyes as he responded, “The boy is dead, my Prince. He never lived. The woman says that… he had claws for hands which ripped through his mother as he was born. He had scales on his back and wings like a small bat.”

Jon breathed hard, “And my wife? Is she alive?”

Jorah took a deep breath, “She is… but…”

“But what?” Jon asked, emotion and anger in his voice, “Take me to her!”

Jorah seemed reluctant to speak.

“TAKE ME TO HER!” Jon demanded as he pushed Jorah back.

Jorah nodded and he helped Jon rise slowly to his feet. Jon stepped forward and pushed back the flaps of the tent. As the sun shone into his eyes, Jon shielded his face with his arm as he staggered forward. As his eyes adjusted, he looked around and noticed far fewer tents were set up than when he had last seen his camp.

“Where is everyone? Where are my bloodriders?” Jon asked as he walked slowly out of the tent.

“Cohollo and Haggo have fled. Rakharo is standing guard outside the Khaleesi's tent. They say that you killed your son by offering his soul to a witch. And you sacrificed your horse in blood magic. Without a horse, you cannot ride and a khal who cannot ride is no khal.”

“How many of my people are still here?” Jon asked.

“The _kos_ fought with each other and those who won have fled with portions of your army. Some women, slaves and some of the men have chosen to stay. There are maybe five hundred or so.” Ser Jorah answered hesitantly.

“Five hundred?” Jon repeated in a croak, “Forty thousand I had… and now just five hundred?”

“It seems Mago had planned to rise against you. He convinced many of your captains that you were not as strong a khal as they had believed.”

“I cut off Mago's head.” Jon growled as he saw the tent where his wife was in a distance.

“Yes, but it seemed that only worsened things, my khal.” Ser Jorah commented.

Jon didn’t respond. He just wanted … no needed to see his wife.

Rakharo bent his knee as Jon approached, “[My khal].

Jon patted his shoulder gratefully before he pushed back the flaps of his tent.

On the bed lay his Khaleesi covered in furs. Mirri Maz Dhur was beside her.

“Leave us, Ser Jorah.” Jon commanded.

“I don’t think it wise to leave you alone with this witch.” The knight responded.

Jon looked at him with his fierce purple eyes, “Go. Now”

Ser Jorah bowed his head reluctantly and gave a quick glance at the witch before he left the tent.

“You tricked me. You gave me some…potion…” Jon said in a low voice, “I trusted you and you took away my khalasar, my wife and my son!”

“You needed rest. I helped you. Your khalasar abandoning you, you did that all on your own. Your son was dead before I pulled him out of your wife. But your Khaleesi lives, my lord.” The woman answered, “Just as I promised. Only death pays for life. I warned you of the price.”

“So you bought her life with my son's? Show her to me then!” Jon roared.

But she smiled in return and beckoned to him, “Come and see, Great Khal.”

Jon rushed forward to Val's side. Her eyes were opened but they seemed to be staring off into the far distance. She was breathing calmly and her hand was on her chest.

“[My love?]” Jon whispered as he took her hand and kissed it. Then he kissed her on the lips but it seemed as if he was kissing a living corpse.

“What happened to her? Why does she not speak?” Jon asked furiously.

“You asked for life, my khal. This is it.” The witch responded.

“This is not life.” Jon uttered through gritted teeth as he touched his wife's face and felt the threat of tears behind his eyes.

He turned towards the woman, “Why have you done this? I saved you! And this is how you repay me?”

“Saved me?” The witch scoffed, “Your men already burned my new temple and raped me multiple times before I was brought to you. I was attacked by this khalasar once before, when it was led by a different Khal. And to him, I gave a different gift. But it seemed he was the wrong man.”

Jon's eyes widened, “The Lhazarene witch who cursed Khal Drogo.”

The woman grinned, “It was prophesied that his son would be the Stallion who Mounts the World. His son would have burned villages and trampled cities, enslave and corrupt the peoples of this world. But I should know by now that not all prophecies appear as they should.”

The woman stood and gazed down at Jon, “Still, it matters not. I have fulfilled my mission and the Stallion is dead.”

“And I?” Jon seethed, “Shall you curse me as well? Tell me I can no longer have children?”

The witch laughed, “Oh no, Great Khal. Have as many children as you like. But… only when the sun rises in the West and sets in the east, when the seas go dry and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves, when your wife returns to you as she once was… will you have a child who lives long enough to draw their first breath. Until then, all your children will be as your son, a half-bred demon child.”

Jon cried out and grabbed the witch by the throat, “I should choke the life out of you, right here and now.”

The witch managed a strangled sounding chuckle, “Kill me then. It will not change anything.”

Jon threw the woman roughly to the ground, breathing hard as he glared at her.

“You will die tonight, witch. I promise you that. You will burn and you will die screaming.”

“Rakharo!” Jon cried out. His bloodrider came inside the tent.

“[Tie this woman up. Leave her in the sun. No food or water. We burn her tonight.]” Jon commanded with his fists clenched.

Rakharo grabbed Mirri Maz Dhur by her hair.

“[Tell Ser Jorah to bring me my sword.]” added Jon.

“[Yes, my Khal.]” Rakharo responded as he dragged the witch out of the tent.

Jon moved towards his wife on the bed and lifted her into his arms. As he held Val close to his chest, tears streamed from his dark purple eyes.

“Are you still in there, my love? Can you hear me? Just say one word. Any word. Let me know you can. Even if it’s just Silver. Say it.”

But Val said nothing. She made no sound or movement. Her eyes continued to stare blankly ahead of her.

Jon rocked her slowly back and forth and whispered words in Valyrian and Dothraki but the Khaleesi remained motionless.

Ser Jorah reappeared inside the tent and found Jon cradling his wife in his arms.

“Do you have Blackfyre, Ser Jorah? Give me Blackfyre.” Came the shaken whispers of a broken man.

Ser Jorah laid the Valyrian sword by Jon's side.

“What do you mean to do?” The knight asked in a soft whisper.

Jon said nothing in reply as he caressed his wife’s face.

“Find my son's body, Ser Jorah. Prepare a pyre for him and my wife. They will both be burned tonight along with the witch who murdered them.” Jon ordered in a weary voice, his wet eyes gazing down at his wife.

“But, the Khaleesi… she still lives…” Ser Jorah started to say.

“DO IT!” Jon cried out loud in a desperate voice, “Please…Do it…Now…Leave me with her…”

Ser Jorah bowed his head and left the tent.

With one hand, Jon lifted Blackfyre out of its sheath as he lay his wife flat on the bed.

_Remember the dragons, my love? Maybe you’ll get to see one where you are…_

Jon whispered soft and low, “When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the mountains blow in the wind and the seas run dry. I’ll see you and our son again. Goodbye, my sweet love. Forgive me…”

Jon drove Blackfyre through her body and he sobbed as blood trickled from her lips, her eyes unchanging before the life drained out of them. She trembled slightly and then grew limp. Dark red blood soaking the furs of the bed.

Jon drew the sword from his wife's breast and cast it aside. Metal hitting solid ground. Holding her one last time, he cried his wife's name as he rocked her, covered in her blood.

* * *

* * *

 

_Father…_

Tears clouded Dany's vision as she urged her horse faster through the cold, dark forests. Up ahead, Dany saw Ghost’s white form running ahead of her.

_Father, I’m so sorry… I should have been with you…_

A few days after the dead man had attacked the Lord Commander, a raven arrived from King's Landing.

Ned Stark was dead. Beheaded for treason.

That night, when everyone was asleep. Dany stole a sword from the armory and a horse from the stables before she snuck out of the gates. She rode hard and fast and as far as she could from Castle Black.

_Robb.. . I’m coming…. I’ll find you…_

The raven also brought news that her brother had called all their banners and was marching his army south. They had named him King in the North. Robb, sweet and charming Robb, with his bright blue eyes and soft auburn hair… Robb the Young Wolf, the King. Her King.

_Arya… Sansa… I’ll save you… I’ll take you home.._

The Lannisters still had her sisters and she knew Robb and Lady Stark meant to get them back. Dany didn’t care how she was going to do it but she knew that she had to help.

“Snow! Snow, stop!” a voice called behind her.

Dany turned to look back and saw torches following after her in a distance.

_No… I can’t stop now…_

But just as she turned, a low hanging branch connected with her shoulders and she fell off her horse into a pile of fresh snow which broke her fall.

Dany quickly stood and looked around for her horse but she couldn’t see it.

Closing her eyes, Dany knew she had failed. They would find her, bring her back and she would lose her head.

She heard at least five or six horses coming her way. She was surprised they would send so many to come after her. The light of the torches came closer but she couldn’t see the faces of the riders.

“Dany, what are you doing?”

Dany looked up and saw Sam's worried face from underneath his black hood.

“Sam?” Dany asked in disbelief.

“Gods, you’re a bloody idiot, Snow. You’re lucky Sam spotted you and told us what was going on.” Grenn’s voice uttered.

One of the riders dismounted and ran up to Dany.

“And Nery saw you get Ghost. Please, come back with us.” Mila pulled down her hood, her brown hair spilling over her shoulders.

“I can’t go back. You know I can’t.” Dany insisted, her tears still wet on her cheek.

“They’ll kill you. They’ll kill us all if we don’t go back now.” This time it was Pyp.

Nery and two other girls were there as well but stayed on their horses.

“You didn’t have to come for me. I don’t want you all to lose your heads for my sake.” Dany cried out angrily.

She pulled the sword from her belt and held it up.

“We don’t want to fight you, Snow.” Grenn stated holding up his hand as the other held a torch.

“We know we won’t win.” Pyp added.

Mila looked at Dany sympathetically, “We're sorry about your Father. But you know there’s nothing you can do. You swore the oath!”

“Fuck the oath!” Dany sobbed as she gripped her sword, “You don’t understand. None of you do!”

“We understand more than you know, Dany.” Nery uttered from atop her horse, “We all do.”

“We need you.” Sam stated firmly as he walked in front of Dany.

Dany was surrounded on all sides. She turned around with her sword up but none of them moved an inch.

“My brother… my sisters… _they_ need me now.” Dany said as her voice shook with emotion.

“ _We_ are your brothers and sisters now.” Mila responded strongly, “And you care more about being a part of the Nights Watch than any of us ever did. It was you who taught me the words and what it meant.”

“That was before… that was…” Dany tried to say.

“Hear my words and bear witness to my vows.” Sam began.

Dany growled through her tears, “Damn you all! Damn you all to hell!”

She tried to brush past them but Grenn held her arm.

“Night gathers and now my watch begins.” He continued.

“It shall not end until my death.” Pyp said as he placed his hand on Dany's shoulder.

Mila pushed Dany's hand that held her sword down to the side, “I shall take no husband, hold no lands, bear no children, I shall wear no crowns and win no glory, I shall live and die at my post.”

Dany stared at them all, her dark grey eyes filling with fresh tears.

All of them continued in one voice, “I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls, I am the shield that guards the realms of men, I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come _.”_

Dany felt her entire body tremble as grief, exhaustion and anger overwhelmed her.  She dropped her sword listlessly on the ground.

Mila threw her arms around Dany as the raven-haired girl sobbed into her friend's shoulder. Pyp, Grenn and Sam came forward to hold her as well.

Dany held on to her friends and she knew they were right. As her tears continued to fall, so did all thoughts of her abandoning and forsaking her vows. The pain in her heart was still fresh but she knew that she didn’t have to face it alone.

* * *

 

Dany was in the kitchens chopping carrots for the Lord Commander's dinner, when the kitchen door creaked open. She was expecting the cook to bark more orders at her but instead she was surprised to find Maester Aemon at the door.

“Maester Aemon?” Dany asked with concern, “Where’s Sam? What are you doing down here?”

The blind old man smiled when he heard her voice, “Dawn Snow. Sam talks about you quite a lot. How are the burns on your hand?”

Dany wiped her hands on her apron as she came to the door and guided the old Maester inside.

“I removed the bandages this morning. It’s never been better.” Dany said congenially as she led him over to a wooden stool, “Have a seat, Maester. What can I get you?”

“I’ve given Samwell the task of copying some important letters for me. I didn’t want to bother him for my tea so I came to get it myself. I know my way around these kitchens better than the cooks. But if you would be so kind, I’d very much appreciate it.” The Maester said with a soft smile.

“Of course, Maester Aemon.” Dany responded as she started searching for the herbs Sam usually used for the old man's tea.

“I also wanted to speak to you.” the old man added.

Dany paused and laid the herbs on the counter, “About what?”

“Do you know why we vow not to have families here at the Night's Watch?” he asked.

Dany swallowed hard, she had a feeling where the conversation was leading, “No.”

“So we do not love. For love is the bane of honor and the death of duty. The gods were cruel to fashion us for love. It is our greatest glory and worst tragedy. For what is honor compared to a lover's touch? Or duty when you hold a newborn child in your arms for the first time? Or a brother's smile… a father's embrace…”

Dany could feel the emotion swell in her chest as she hardened her jaw, “Sam told you.”

“There comes a time in our lives when we must make the hard choice between what’s right and what’s easy. Honor seems the right and easy choice at the start until the day it doesn’t.” he responded.

“And do you think I made the right choice Maester?” Dany said, a touch of bitterness in her tone as she poured hot water into a mug.

“To not avenge my father's death? To not aid my brother? To leave my sisters helpless in the hands of my enemies? I may be just another bastard girl, Maester Aemon, but they are still my blood and my family… and I’ve abandoned them all.” Dany cried out as she slammed the kettle on the table.

The Maester sighed, “It hurts, girl. I know. You may not believe me now but I do know.”

The Maester stood from his stool and walked towards her, Dany quickly wiped the tears from her eyes as he approached.

“The gods were cruel when they tested my vows. They chose to do it when I was already old, blind, unable to wield a sword or ride a horse.” Maester Aemon stated, “What could I do when the ravens brought news of the ruin of my House, my family being attacked from all sides? What could I do after they killed my brother's grandson and then _his_ own son and his family? They didn’t even spare the little children! My brother’s great grandchildren driven away in exile, chased by assassins and I could do nothing to save them! Nothing!”

Dany stared at the old man in awe and confusion, “Who are you?”

“My father was Maekar I. After I declined the crown, my brother Aegon V ruled after my father. His son Jahaerys reigned after him and then his own son, Aerys also known as the Mad King, ruled over the Seven Kingdoms.”

“You’re Aemon of House Targaryen.” Dany said in a whisper.

“Yes.” Maester Aemon nodded, “But I’m also a Maester of the Citadel and a sworn brother of the Night's Watch. I made a choice that day to stay and do my duty. I will not say if your decision was the right one, Dawn Snow. All I will say is that whatever decisions you make from now on, you will have to learn to live with them… just like I have .”

The Maester picked up his mug and then the herbs from the bowl Dany was in the midst of grinding. He sprinkled the herbs in the hot water and with a smile, he patted Dany's cheek and turned to leave.

Dany was left staring after him with a perplexed look. She allowed Maester Aemon’s words to sink in as she returned the herbs and resumed her work.

He was a Targaryen. Perhaps the very last one. Dany's heart was moved by his story and she thought about what it must have been like for him when the Mad King was killed during King Robert's rebellion. But he was right, she did make a choice and she would have to live with it.

As much as Dany wanted to be with her brother, her place was here. At Castle Black. With the Night's Watch.

_Forgive me…Robb…Father…_

Another tear rolled down her cheek but Dany quickly wiped it away and finished chopping her carrots.

Later that evening, Dany brought up the Lord Commander's supper to his quarters.

He was at his desk reading a letter intently as Dany shut the door behind her.

She laid the tray on his desk in front of him. Moving aside his quill and papers to make room.

“Snow. Take a chair.” The Lord Commander said without looking up.

Dany did as she was told and folded her hands together as she sat down.

“You look tired. Been up riding all night?” Commander Mormont asked, his eyes still on his letter.

Dany's eyes widened with surprise and she stuttered, “My lord, I..I..”

“Don’t look so shocked, girl. You think you’re the first one to try sneaking out of this place? At least you’re not whoring yourself at Mole's Town or gods know where else. I’m glad your senses brought you back.” He said in a gruff voice as he tossed the letter on top of his table.

“My friends brought me back.” Dany stated.

“Aye, and I hope they have the senses to let you make your own choices next time. Can’t let other people make them for you all your life, can you?”

“It was my choice to return, Lord Commander just as it was mine to leave.” Dany responded heatedly.

The Lord Commander grunted, “And tell me what you would have done, girl, if you made it south? Bring your father back to life? I’ve already seen one dead man walking, I don’t care to see another.”

He pushed back his chair and stood up. Walking to the fireplace, he placed his hand on the mantle and stared at the flames.

“We still haven’t located Benjen Stark or the rangers in his group. More concerning reports from Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower are talking of wildlings banding together into a large force and I'm also told of our scouts coming across dead men with blue eyes. Unlike us, they actually had the wits to burn the bodies right away before they rose.”

The Lord Commander turned to look at Dany, “I’ve sent Ser Allister to King's Landing with the severed hand your beast tore off Othor. Perhaps it’ll turn everyone’s attention to this war instead of the bloody nonsense your brother and all the others are playing at down south. When the dead rise, it won’t make a shit of a difference whose ass sits on the Iron Throne. A war is coming, Snow, it’ll be great and terrible and we will need everyone. Every man and every woman ready to fight. But I need answers and I need you and your direwolf with me when we leave.”

“Leave?” Dany asked as she stood up, “Leave where?”

“Beyond the Wall.” The Commander answered, “I will take every man and woman we can spare at the castle. We will head North and find your uncle dead or alive. Whatever we find, be it wildlings or White Walkers or gods know what else, I can only pray we will be ready to face them.”

Dany couldn’t believe what she was hearing that she felt light headed for a moment.

“Tell me, Snow. The women you’ve been training. Are they any good?” The Lord Commander asked as he walked across the room.

“They’ve only practiced with knives but they learn fast. They can be quick and smart with a short spear or a small sword.” Dany responded.

“Good.” The Lord Commander nodded, “Better quick and smart than slow and stupid. And as for you, I have something you’ll need for our journey.”

He picked up a longsword with its sheath and belt from a chest and offered it to her.

Dany looked at him with a questioning gaze before tentatively taking the sword in her hand. Despite its size and length, it was strangely lightweight. At the end of the hilt was a white wolf's head. Dany lifted the sword slightly out of its sheath and she gasped, “This is… Valyrian Steel.”

“Aye, it’s been in the Mormont family for generations. It was suppose to go to my son, Jorah, before he betrayed our House and fled into exile. He had the decency to leave the sword. I’ve had the pommel changed from a bear to a wolf. More fitting I think for you as it’s yours now.” The Commander said as he poured himself a mug of ale.

“My lord… I’m honored. But I can’t—”

“You can and you will.” Commander Mormont responded. “The last woman to hold Longclaw was none other than Maege the Mighty She-Bear. It seemed only right that you wield it now for this expedition. But remember that it takes a grown woman to use that sword, not a little girl. You’ll need to do a lot of growing up before you’re ready to wield that sword in battle. Maege kept Castle Black safe from wildling invaders. You will keep the rest of this country safe from much worse.”

“Thank you, Lord Commander.” Dany said gratefully.

“You say you’re ready to make your own decisions, Dawn Snow. Then here is your choice. You can choose to be another bastard girl of a highborn lord, fighting for acknowledgement or acceptance over your true born siblings or you can fight alongside your sisters and brothers of the Night's Watch to defend the realm in the coming war. What will it be?”

Dany lifted her head and gripping Longclaw tightly in her hands, she answered with clear certainty, "Wherever you go, I'll follow.”

* * *

* * *

 

 Jon laid the three dragon eggs carefully around Val's body and then kissed his wife on the forehead. Their son's body was wrapped in a white cloth and tucked between her arm and chest. Jon stepped down from the pyre and faced what was left of his khalasar.

He was clad in the Dothraki clothing his wife had made for him when he was still a slave. His long hair in one silver braid draped over his shoukder.

Mirri Maz Dhur was tied at the edge of the pyre. Her head lolling from heat exhaustion and dehydration.

“[If any of you stay and follow me. You will do so as free men and women. I will no longer have slaves in my khalasar. If any of you wish to leave, do it now.]”

As Jon said this, he could see shadows of people walking away from the crowd in the night.

He could hear the witch laugh behind him, “They will all leave, Great Khal. No one will stay for you.”

Jon unsheathed Blackfyre and held it up high, “[To you standing here tonight, I make to you the same vow I made when Khal Drogo died. I will lead this khalasar to greatness. To conquer this world as no Khal has done before. Anyone who tries to harm you will face the same fate as this witch. You will hear her scream as you watch her burn.]”

“I will not scream.” The witch said proudly.

Jon turned and walked towards her, as he drew near, he whispered viciously, “You will. Loudly. Before the fires reach your throat.”

Jon returned Blackfyre to its sheath and he unbuckled his sword belt.

“Ser Jorah, come forward.” Jon said as he returned to the front of the pyre.

The knight walked towards him.

“Ser Jorah, you have proven your worth and loyalty to me many times over. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count. You fought for and defended my wife, my khalasar and even my brother. I owe you everything. I only wish there was more I could do to repay the debt. You have my gratitude and my sword.”

Ser Jorah grabbed Jon by the shoulders, “My prince. All I did and all I have done is because of my vow to live in service to you. I will continue to do so now and always. But do not give me your sword and do not do what I think you are going to do. Let us take the eggs and sell it. We can use the money to buy a ship or to live the rest of our days as wealthy men.”

Jon clasped Jorah's hand that was on his shoulder as he smiled weakly, “I wasn't given those eggs to sell them. They are a symbol of my freedom and my lineage.”

“I won’t let you walk into the pyre with your wife and son. They are dead, my Prince. Let the dead be dead. Don’t burn with them.”

Jon laughed, “Is that what you fear? Do you not know who I am, Ser Jorah? After all this time…”

Then, as his face grew serious, Jon placed Blackfyre in Jorah’s arms, “You’ve been a dear friend to me, Jorah the Andal. At times, I’ve felt closer to you than my own brother. Perhaps you are the only family I have left in this world.”

“And you have been as a son to me.” Ser Jorah said, his voice trembling with emotion as his hand held Jon's cheek, “Please, I beg of you, Aegon, do not do this.”

Jon bowed his head to the knight as he stepped away from Ser Jorah's reach. He held his hand out to Rakharo who passed him a torch. Jon touched the kindling between the logs of the pyre with the end of his torch until they started to catch and the flames spread around the structure.

The witch started to chant a foreign song as the fire spread. As the flames burned hotter and grew wilder, Jon smiled when he finally heard her screams of agony and pain. But her shrieks lasted only a few moments before her entire body was engulfed in the inferno.

“I am Aegon Stormborn. I am the blood of the dragon. Fire made flesh. I take what is mine with fire and blood. Fire and Blood.” Jon whispered to himself.

Then Jon walked slowly into the fire. He felt the immense heat surround him as the fire started to burn the leather material around his chest, arms and legs. But Jon kept his gaze on his wife, his son and the glowing dragon eggs. Jon then closed his eyes as the flames covered him.

 _I am a dragon. Fire cannot kill a dragon._  

* * *

 

Ser Jorah awoke to the sound of gasps and murmurs. It was barely dawn.

He had fallen asleep on the ground where he had stood after Aegon walked into the pyre.

He groaned as he pushed himself off the ground. Rakharo and a few other men were standing and looking into the remnants of the fire.

There was a dark grey cloud of smoke around where the pyre used to be. As Jorah walked forward, he squinted through the ashes and embers that blew around him.

Suddenly, he stopped and his breath caught in his throat.

Immediately he fell to his knees and muttered in shock, “Blood of my blood.”

Rakharo and his men were on their knees as well and the rest of the crowd soon followed.

Rising from the centre of the burning ashes was a naked man. His long silver hair blowing in the wind. As the man turned to face Ser Jorah, his dark purple eyes were clear and filled with fiery intent.

Cradled in his right arm was a small creature with golden wings. Climbing his right leg was another one but it’s color was emerald green. Perched comfortably on his shoulder was a black one with red tipped wings that affectionately brushed its spiked face against the man’s cheek.

The black creature opened its mouth to give a high pitched cry and was joined by its siblings.

As the sun rose over the smoke, the world was alive with the song of dragons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to clarify. Jon may or may not be infertile, just as in the show/books, we don't know if what Mirri Maz Dhur said was a real curse/prophesy or not. She did say that any child he will have won't live and will basically be monsters that'll end up killing their mother. This will greatly affect Jon's ability to want to sleep with women as he thinks that if he gives anyone a child, it will kill the mother. So, how would this impact boatsex? I dunno, we shall have to see. 
> 
> Thanks!


	6. The Night Lands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany goes beyond the wall. Jon wanders the Red Waste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. I had a bit of a mental block with this story and have been working on my other fics.  
> I actually got through half of Season 2 in one chapter! So, forgive all the time jumps.  
> Didn't divert too much from the show dialogue/storyline but Dany's story will definitely be a little different than the show/books in the next chaps.

Dany sat against a tree and occupied herself with sharpening Longclaw with a whetstone. It had been a fortnight since they left Castle Black and they had stopped to take shelter as well as stock up on supplies at Craster’s Keep.

Craster was a vulgar, spiteful old man. A wildling. But he held important information concerning Mance Rayder, a former brother of the Night’s Watch who betrayed his vows and was now gathering an army of wildings.

“It’s almost nightfall.” A voice said from above her, “You planning on staying out here in the cold?”

It was Edd Tollett, one of the new recruits who had joined Lord Commander Mormont’s Great Ranging Beyond the Wall. Grenn and the other brothers nicknamed him “Dolorous Edd” for his dry sarcasm and morose wit.

Edd at least was one of the few brothers who were open-minded about the women travelling with the men in the expedition. It was difficult for many of the men to adjust to the Lord Commander’s decision to train the women and have them armed and ready for battle. At first, Dany was hopeful that her sworn brothers would get used to the change, but after more than two weeks since leaving Castle Black, Dany’s hopes were growing dim.

Things seemed to take a turn for the worse when they reached Craster’s Keep. Both the women and the men kept to their own groups and avoided each other as much as possible. The only ones from both groups that managed to get along well enough were Dany’s friends: Sam, Grenn, Pyp, Mila, Nery and… Edd.

Dany looked up at Edd and said nothing.

Edd shrugged as he walked away, “So be it. It won’t be me who’ll be finding your frozen ass in the morning.”

Dany watched Edd walk away and turned her attention back to Longclaw.

Her mind replayed the events of the day before…

_“Craster’s a wildling, what are we doing at a wildling’s home?” Mila asked with a frown as they led their horses into the compound._

_“Lord Commander says that he might know something about the wildlings. Didn’t you notice the wildling camps we passed? They were deserted.” Pyp answered his sister._

_“Are these women all Craster’s daughters?” Sam asked, nodding his head to the group of young women that walked past them._

_“They’re his daughters… and they’re his wives too.” Edd responded with a grimace as he tied his horse’s reins to a fence._

_“What?” Grenn asked with a look of disgust on his face, “That is beyond foul.”_

_“Foul? That’s downright sickening.” Nery added with a deep scowl on her face._

_“All the wildlings are gone but Craster’s still here. Must be doing something right.” Edd muttered under his breath as he walked away to help unload supplies off the wagon._

_Dany remained silent the entire time but as she looked around, she noticed something, “Where are the boys?”_

_The others glanced at her questioningly._

_Sam asked, “What do you mean?”_

_“I only see girls here. If Craster marries all his daughters, what happens to the sons?” Dany continued, her eyes watching Craster’s daughters suspiciously._

A shriek suddenly broke Dany’s thoughts and she stood up quickly, looking around for the direction of the sound.

Dany held Longclaw in her hand, ready to use it if she needed to.

She saw a small hut right outside of Craster’s main home and she slowly crept towards it. Dany leaned her back against the side of the hut, and saw a small opening between the wooden boards.

Dany’s eyes widened when she saw what was inside. One of Craster’s daughters was giving birth, Dany heard the cries of the newborn baby but the women surrounding the mother were whispering to each other in fear.

“It’s a boy… it’s a boy…” one of the girls cried.

“We have to tell our husband… tell Father…” another responded in a hush.

The mother was in tears, “No, please don’t… please… don’t let him take my boy…”

One of the women’s eyes met Dany’s and Dany felt her heart pound in her chest as she stepped back. Dany turned and walked away as quickly as she could.

So her suspicions were confirmed. Craster did take the boys somewhere… perhaps to kill them…

She had to tell someone…

Dany knew the Lord Commander was in the main house with Craster. She had been warned not to let any of the women inside as seeing the sisters of the Night’s Watch may trigger Craster’s wrong side. She was barred from entering as well but Dany felt that the Lord Commander needed to know.  

Dany gulped as she tried to steady her breathing. She approached the entrance of the house and pressed her back next to the main doorway. Peeking inside, Dany saw her brothers and the Lord Commander sitting around a fire. Craster was sitting back in his chair, sneering.

“Mance Rayder is the King-Beyond-the Wall now. I hear he’s gathering an army that’ll be bigger than any army your southern kings can muster. You think all the wildlings are dead and gone? They ain’t dead but they are indeed gone. Gone to be a part of Mance’s army.” Craster said with a dark grin.

“And what exactly does Mance plan to do with this army?” came the Lord Commander’s voice.

“Perhaps I’ll tell ya after a bottle of your southern wine.” Craster responded.

“You’ll have a cask of it tonight.”

Craster laughed, “You better make sure of that. I love your southern wine, only good thing from the south. Well… that and your women… like the pretty lady crows you’ve brought with you.”

Dany grabbed Longclaw's hilt and closed her eyes.

_I swear if he touches anyone I will…_

All of a sudden, a strong hand grabbed her by the neck of her cloak and pulled her into the room. She found herself inches from Craster’s smiling yellow teeth as he breathed his sour breath on her.

“I can always tell when a pretty thing is lurking about my nest.” Craster jeered as he dragged Dany into the house.

“Let me go!” Dany yelled as she struggled to free herself from his grasp.

“Ah, a feisty one. I like my women with a little fire. My wives could learn a thing or two from you.” Craster laughed.

“Let her go.” The Lord Commander said in a low voice.

“Why should I? What if I like her and want to keep her?” Craster said mockingly.

“Let her go.” Commander Mormont repeated, a subtle threatening tone in his words.

Craster continued to grin smugly as he looked around the room, the men had their hands on their weapons as they stared hard at the wildling and the bastard girl. After a few tense moments, Craster released his grip on her.

“You better keep your girls close to you, Mormont. Unless they’d like to be my new wives.” Craster taunted, and then immediately a scowl passed his face as he looked at the men around the room, “And if I see any of you runts even so much as glance at any of my wives, you’ll owe me a hand or two.”

"Your roof, your rules." muttered Mormont as he walked past Craster.

Dany turned to walk out as fast as she could, but just as she passed the threshold of the door, the Lord Commander grabbed her furiously by shoulder.

"Snow. I thought I ordered you to keep away from here and out of sight." The Commander growled.

"Lord Commander, I--"

"Who am I, girl?" He asked with a deep glare.

"W-what?" Dany stuttered, confused.

"WHO AM I?"

"You're... You're the Lord Commander." Dany answered, as his fierce gaze pierced through her own eyes.

"And who you are?"

She gulped, "Dawn Snow."

"Aye." He grunted, "You're the bastard girl who looks after my horse and shines my boots. Tell me Snow. Do you ever want to lead one day? To command respect? To give orders?"

"Y-yes, my lord." Dany answered, unsure as to whether she had given the correct response.

"A good leader knows when to follow. If a damn bastard like you takes my place one day, you better learn, girl, and you better learn quickly. The next time Craster lays his hand on you, I might  just let him take you."

The Commander shoved Dany back roughly as he walked away.

Dany panted hard as she clenched her teeth in frustration. Closing her eyes, Dany tried to calm herself as she walked away towards one of the small sheds where her sworn sisters were set up just outside of the compound.

“Dany!” she heard her name whispered.

Dany sighed out loud. She was not in the mood to talk to anyone at the moment. When she turned, she saw Sam standing with one of Craster’s daughter-wives.

“Sam,” Dany began, her eyes shooting daggers at her friend, “What are you doing?”

Sam gave a weak smile, “Dany. This is Gilly. She’s one of Craster’s…daughters. Gilly, this is my friend Dawn Snow. But you can call her Dany if you like.”

“Dany.” Gilly repeated with a grin.

Dany tried to control herself from yelling and said with a forced smile, “Hello Gilly.”

Then turning her eyes back to Sam, she asked again with a more threatening tone, “Sam, what are you doing?”

Sam took a deep breath, “I told Gilly that you could help take her with us.”

“You told her WHAT?” Dany’s voice unintentionally grew louder.

Sam hushed her, “Gilly’s pregnant.”

“Sam, that doesn’t make anything any better.” Dany responded and then she turned her gaze to Gilly, trying to be more sympathetic, “Gilly, I’m sorry but there’s nothing we can do. We can’t take you.”

“Please, miss.” Gilly stated desperately and grabbed on to Dany’s arm, “I’ll do anything. I can cook or clean. I can be very quiet. I promise.”

“Listen to me, Gilly.” Dany said slowly, “The Night’s Watch doesn’t look after babies, and where we’re going, we can’t take care of one. You have to stay here.”

Tears started to fill Gilly’s dark brown eyes, “If I have a boy… If my baby’s a boy, he’s going to…”

But she didn’t finish. Sam and Dany both looked at her, waiting to see if she would explain. Gilly’s lip trembled and she turned around, walking away from them in a rush.

Dany went back to glaring at Sam, “Are you really that desperate to lose a hand, Sam?”

“Dany—”

“I just heard Craster say that if anyone even so much as look at any of his daughters, he would be taking a hand or an eye or something! Are you really that bloody stupid?” Dany said angrily.

Sam was taken aback at Dany’s sudden rage, she had never really lost her temper on him before.

“I just thought… that we could protect her.” Sam said.

“Protect her how?” Dany asked as she started to walk away, Sam scrambling to keep up with her.

“Even if the Lord Commander would allow it, which he certainly won’t, when it’s time for her baby to come, who’s going to help her with that? You?” Dany asked.

“Well I could try… or you or one of the girls would help, I suppose. I’m sure you’d know…”

Dany stopped him and pushed him a little too hard on the shoulder, “We can’t take her Sam. If we did, that would be stealing.”

“It’s not stealing.” Sam countered, “She’s a girl… not a goat. I thought you of all people would understand given what you’ve been through.”

Sam sulked as he trudged through the snow away from her.

Dany sighed regretfully as she called after him, “Sam… Sam!”

But Sam was already out of earshot. Dany rubbed her eyes with her gloved hand and prayed they would be on their way soon. The longer she stayed in this place, the more miserable she felt.

It seemed that every time Dany felt that, for once, something was going right in her life, the gods would take every chance to piss it all away.

She kicked a tree in frustration and looked up at the grey sky between the tree tops.

There was a streak of red in the sky, as if someone had cut the heavens with a knife and its wound was bare for all the world to see.

Dany stared hard at the red comet, wondering what it meant and thought that perhaps it was a sign that the gods bled like people do.

 _Maybe they’re bleeding for Father,_ Dany thought as she looked at the comet with sad eyes.

* * *

 

* * *

 

The Dothraki called it the “Bleeding Star”. But Jon knew that stars didn’t bleed and they didn’t appear in the day sky.

As he stared up at the reddish streak, Jon knew that it must be an omen, a herald of the birth of his dragons. But he wondered if the red star’s appearance meant something else entirely. Perhaps something more foreboding and ominous.

Jon turned and squinted his dark purple eyes in the desert sun. He and what was left of his khalasar had been travelling for more than a fortnight through the Red Waste. A stretch of barren lands devoid of any signs of life. They were running low on food and water. Already there were fifty deaths, mostly the old ones and the very young. Weak souls incapable of surviving the harshness of the desert.

Word had quickly spread about the man who rose from the ashes unscathed, birthing dragons from stone. People whispered about the silver-haired man who was “unburnt” and the “Father of dragons”.

“Are you sure this is the only way, Ser Jorah?” Jon asked as he shielded his eyes, “My people are starving and dying and I’m leading them through a land where more of them will continue to die.”

“Your khalasar is small and weak, my khal. They will not survive an attack by a rival khalasar or anyone with a battle ready army. The Red Waste is the one place no one would dare venture.” Ser Jorah explained.

“I can see why.” Jon muttered as he continued forward. His lips were chapped and he knew he had lost weight as Blackfyre would often slip from his sword belt.

Jon approached one of the horses that carried the wooden baskets where his dragons rested.

“[Hold a moment].” Jon commanded and the man leading the horse paused.

Jon opened the basket and took out the small black dragon with red tipped scales. When they still had goats, Jon had fed them on goat's milk. But they had eaten the last of what livestock they had a few days ago. Jon attempted to feed them meat but the dragons merely sniffed it and turned their snouts away. He was getting worried, if his dragons did not eat, they would surely die. Jon stroked the black one's head with the tip of his finger. The dragon cooed in response.

“Have you decided what to call them?” Ser Jorah asked.

“This black one… I’ll name Drogon. It was what Val wanted to name our son. She couldn’t pronounce the word ‘Dragon.” Jon answered with a sad smile, “It is also in honor of the Khal who made me what I am today, Khal Drogo. Hopefully this dragon will grow to embody the Great Khal's fierce spirit.”

“And the others?”

“Rhaegal and Viserion.” Jon responded without hesitation.

“After your brothers? Even Viserys?” Jorah questioned with a look of surprise.

“They were both my brothers, Ser Jorah. I wish I knew Rhaegar and I wish I loved Viserys. Perhaps the dragons who bear their names will become the family I never had.” Jon stated as he returned Drogon to his basket.

“I have to get my dragons and my people food and shelter. We can’t keep on like this.” Jon said grimly as he looked beyond the horizon where it seemed the red desert continued to stretch on and on.

“Everything ends, my Khal. Even the Red Waste.” Ser Jorah replied.

“Well it needs to end. It needs to end now.” Jon insisted as he walked through the small group.

“[Blood of my blood!”] he called out.

His three bloodriders turned to look at him from the front where they were leading three horses.

“[My khal.]” They answered with their heads bowed.

Jon held up his hand, and his khalasar of less then a hundred people stopped.

“[I need to know what lies beyond the Red Waste. Whether it’s a village, a city, or the black sea. We cannot stay in the Red Waste forever and I do not know this land. You must ride now. Ride hard and fast. Then come back to us.]”

“[Where shall we go, my khal?”] asked Rakharo.

“[Rakharo, you will ride northeast. Aggo, eastward and Kavarro, southeast.]” Jon stated. “[Ride for no longer than three days, then return to us.]

Jon's bloodriders nodded their heads obediently and begun to unburden their horses from the extra packs they were carrying.

Before Jon walked away, he looked at Rakharo.

“[Rakharo.]” Jon called as he walked towards his bloodrider and placed a hand on his shoulder, “[You have been with me since the first. A true bloodrider. I promised you greatness and glory and yet here we are.]”

Rakharo, who was ever optimistic, grinned at his Khal,”[Perhaps we will find it in the desert.]”

Jon gave a faint smile, “[Yes. Perhaps.]”

“[I won’t fail you my khal.]” Rakharo vowed as he mounted his horse.

Jon gave him nod and murmured, “You never have.”

He watched as his bloodriders rode off into the red desert, their horses kicking up rust colored clouds in the dirt. Jon's eyes stayed on them until their horses disappeared behind a rocky hill.

“So what now?” Ser Jorah asked walking up behind him.

Jon took a deep breath, “We wait.”

* * *

 

Jon and his khalasar waited almost a week. Twenty more of his people died. Many were sick and starving, most just took their chances and tried to walk back to where they came. Ser Jorah tried to goad Jon into taking the khalasar south but Jon would not move. His dragons fortunately started to feed albeit a little  bit on meat mixed in with water to soften the texture. But even the meat and water were running low.

“I need to know what is out there, Jorah. I won’t take my people further into the Waste.” Jon insisted.

Ser Jorah passed him a nearly empty flask of water, “Our rations are down to three or maybe four more days, my khal.”

“Just one more day, Ser Jorah. I believe in them. They will return.” Jon said as he wet his lips with the water.

Ser Jorah simply nodded.

In a few hours, a horse did return… but without its rider.

Jon and Ser Jorah stood on their feet as the horse made its way towards them.

“I know that horse…” Ser Jorah murmured.

Jon heard his khalasar start to whisper to each other in fear. A few women cried out and wailed. Jon clenched his jaw tightly as he went towards the horse and grabbed its reins.

Hung beside the horse was a large pouch stained in dry blood and what looked like human hair sticking out from it. Jon felt white fury burn in his chest as he reached into the pouch.

It was Rakharo’s head.

“Who do you think did this?” Jon seethed as he placed his bloodrider’s severed head back inside the pouch.

Ser Jorah was beside him and he inspected the horse, “Could be anyone, my khal. You had many former commanders take large portions of your khalasar. Rakharo may have run into one as he went north.”

“We will make a pyre for Rakharo tonight. I will not have my bloodrider’s soul wander this earth forsaken. He will ride with his ancestors in the Night Lands. I swear it.” Jon vowed as he gripped the horse’s saddle.

Ser Jorah nodded, “Yes, my khal.”

Just as Ser Jorah was about to lead the horse away, they heard the sound of another one galloping towards them.

“Aggo.” Jon breathed with relief.

Aggo reared his horse in front of them and dismounted with a grin, “[Blood of my blood].”

Jon noticed that the horse his bloodrider brought with him was of a different breed and the cloth that was draped on its back was not of the same material the Dothraki normally wore.

“[What happened to your horse?]” Jon asked curiously as Aggo walked towards him.

“[A man from Qarth gave this one to me along with food and water for the khalasar. He says he will speak of you to the Thirteen to allow us through their gates.]” Aggo explained as he started to hand women the bags of water and food his horse carried.

“Qarth?” Jon asked and he turned to Ser Jorah, “I’ve heard of this place before. I once fought against a man who was bought by a Qartheen in the fighting pits. The man didn’t fight well but I hear he was very well-paid.”

“A city of merchants, my Prince. The ones who rule their city are called Pureborns who claim to have descended from their old kings. They call the area outside of their walls ‘The Garden of Bones’. When they deny a traveller entry, the garden grows.” Ser Jorah stated.

“[This man you met,]” Jon said to Aggo, “[Are you certain he will be true to his word? Will the Thirteen let us in?]”

Aggo nodded, “[He says the Thirteen would be glad to receive the Silver Beast… the Father of Dragons.]”

Jon looked towards the east and he breathed deeply, “[We make for Qarth immediately. Gather the people, Aggo, and let us see what these Thirteen have to say.]”

“My prince,” Ser Jorah said cautiously, “We must be careful with the Qartheens. They will not take any show of dominance or power lightly.”

“If these Thirteen are as great as they claim to be, I won’t need to. “ Jon replied in a firm voice.

Jon watched as his people scrambled for the food and water that Aggo had brought, drinking thirstily from the water bags and ravenously consuming the fruits he had brought.

“I must be their strength, Ser Jorah.” Jon said, looking as his people, “If I fail in that, I’m not worthy of being called their Khal.”

* * *

* * *

 

Dany was woken up by the distant cries of a baby. She sat up slowly wondering if it had been a dream. She looked to her side and saw her sworn sisters asleep in their make-shift covers.

But then she heard the cry again.

 _It’s not a dream!_ Dany thought.

She pushed her covers away and grabbed Longclaw quietly as she carefully snuck out of the shed.

Dany strained her ears to listen for the baby’s cry. At the corner of her eye, she saw a white form run through the trees.

 _Ghost_?

As Ghost got bigger and older, he had been roaming further and further away from Dany and the rest of the Night’s Watch. Dany worried that Ghost was growing wilder the farther away from the Wall they travelled. She wondered if Ghost had heard the sound of the baby too.

Dany moved as quickly but as silently as she could through the trees. She could hear the distant snores of the men in the night and saw the burning embers of the fires they built.

As Dany crept closer to the main house, she saw a shadowy figure emerge.

 _Craster!_ Dany thought. She saw him slip away into the forest and Dany was not intending on letting him out of her sight.

She followed Craster from a distance, the sound of the mewling baby echoed in the night.

 _The baby boy from yesterday…_ Dany thought.

All of a sudden he stopped. The baby was now screaming in his arms. Craster bent down and lay the baby on the cold, snow covered ground before turning away.

_He leaves them out here to die!_

Dany felt utter revulsion creep up her throat like bile as she unsheathed Longclaw.

_No, I won’t let that baby die here in the cold…_

Just as Dany was about to move from her hiding spot, she heard an unearthly snarl and the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow.

Dany knelt to the ground and gripped the trunk of the tree as her eyes widened in fear.

Out of the forest, walking slowly towards the crying baby was a creature Dany had never seen before. It looked like a man and walked like a man but it’s body was as white as glass, what should be it’s hair was paper thin and floated in the wind. It carried a spear-like weapon in its hand and as he drew closer, Dany could see the bright blue glow of its eyes.

The creature bent down over the crying baby and in a moment, the baby was silent as the creature took it away.

Dany couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She was frozen to her spot and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the creature that took the baby.

It disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and the baby was gone.

As Dany turned to run, she found herself face to face with Craster who glared deeply at her as he came close to her.

“Lady crow…” he growled.

Dany was about to scream when a heavy blow connected with her skull and she saw stars before her vision went black.

* * *

 

"I want all of you out by first light! Your lady crow is once again poking her nose in places that don't need poking. Either you all leave or she stays with me along with the rest of your lady crows."

Dany groaned loudly as she barely heard Craster's screams above her. She was lying curled up on the ground of the main house, her head was pounding and she could taste blood in her mouth.

"Dany..." It was Sam but she couldn't even open her eyes wide enough to look at him.

"Take her outside, Tarly." Came the Lord Commander's voice.

"L-Lord Commander." Dany whimpered but her voice barely registered above a soft whisper.

_I have to tell him... the baby..._

But before she could say anything, Sam had pulled her up and led her out into the courtyard.

"Are you alright, Dany? There's blood all over your face." Sam said as he sat her down on a bale of hay and pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket.

"I'm fine, Sam." Dany responded with irritation. She had to talk to the Lord Commander. He has to know what Craster's been doing.

Just as she pushed Sam away as he tried to clean the blood off her face, the Lord Commander exited from the house and walked towards them.

"Leave us, Tarly." He ordered. Sam hesitated but then nodded and walked away.

Dany saw that the Lord Commander had Longclaw in his hand. Dany immediately reached for her side belt and

"What did you do, Snow?" The Lord Commander asked with a soft growl.

"Lord Commander, I just--"

"I told you to learn and you still haven't. I'm wondering if I was wrong about you and about trusting you with this sword." The Lord Commander stated, as he drew closer to her.

"You don't understand," Dany countered fiercely, "I saw what he did to the baby. The baby boy that was born yesterday. He killed him! He kills all the boys! He takes the babies into the woods and he--"

Dany stopped. The Commander's expression was unchanged only replaced by a slightly grim look in his eyes.

"You know... You know he's giving those babies to them... to the White Walkers..." Dany whispered in disbelief.

The Lord Commander clenched his jaw and pressed his lips together, "The wildlings serve much crueler gods than we do. The babies are his offerings to them. Whether it's the Walkers who took them or not, I cannot say, but no doubt, you will most likely see them again."

"Offerings? It's murder! Craster... He's a murderer, a monster!" Dany seethed through gritted teeth.

"Aye," responded the Commander, "a monster who's been the difference of life and death for our rangers including your uncle. I don't care what you learned from your father, girl, but out here... we need men like Craster. When you grow up, _if_ you grow up, you'll understand that when it comes to war, we will all be murderers and monsters one way or another. What matters is which monster ends up surviving in the end."

Dany looked away, breathing hard, "I saw what took that baby. The White Walkers are real and you're letting him help them."

The Commander shoved the sword into her hands, "Go and wake your sisters then ready my horse. We leave before dawn."

Dany watched as the Lord Commander walked away from her, his words reverberating in her mind. She knew what he said made sense but it didn't feel right. Dany then thought about what Maester Aemon said about honor and duty. What could you do when you are faced between what's right and what's easy? What if neither of the choices were right or easy? What if they were all wrong? What if it caused the deaths of babies, of children, of men and women?

Dany clutched Longclaw tightly as her head continued to throb. She had to wake the others. They were finally leaving and the sooner they leave this wretched place behind, along with its wretched master, the better. Dany turned and started towards the shed, trying her best to stay on her feet as fresh blood dripped down her cheek.

* * *

* * *

 

Jon and his khalasar stood outside the walled gates of Qarth. Jon gazed up at this oasis of a city that stood between the sea and the desert. Whoever had built it had done so wisely. The sea enabled the city to become an important port city and trade route via ships and merchant barges. The desert ensured that trespassers and outsiders would suffer greatly once expelled into the Red Waste. 

 _Garden of Bones indeed_ , Jon thought.

A troop of soldiers exited from the gates escorting a smaller group of men dressed in colorful brocades with a metallic sheen. One of the men, a rotund man who wore a ring on each finger and whose embroidered coat glistened in the afternoon sun, walked ahead of the group and towards Jon, stopping far enough to make conversation possible.

"Greetings, Aegon Stormborn of the House Targaryen." The portly man stated with a greasy smile.

"Is this how guests are usually welcomed at Qarth, my lord? Outside your gates with armed men?" Jon asked in a scornful tone as he eyed the guards who surrounded them.

"I am not a lord, Khal Aegon, just a humble spice merchant. As for our armed escort, well, when we heard of a Dothraki horde approaching our fair city, it was best for us to come prepared." The man answered, his grin deepening.

Jon glanced at his small khalasar of less than a hundred people, comprised mostly of starving men and women, and the scowl on his face was fierce as he faced the Quartheen merchant, "I did not travel all this way to be insulted at the gates."

The man chuckled lightly, "I mean you no insult, Aegon Stormborn. But as we did not know who or what we were expecting when we were told of your impending arrival, we, the Thirteen, thought it best to come with our escort of guards. But if they cause you much distress, dear khal, I shall have them stand down."

Jon grit his teeth as he detected the condescending tone lurking behind the Spice King's words.

“You know my name, merchant, but I do not know yours.” Jon responded attempting to be civil.

"Many call me the Spice King. It's not a name I have gladly embraced but who are we to decide what others name us. They call us by the tales they hear. Just as yourself, we have heard stories of a Westerosi slave, the Silver Dragon, who cut down men in the fighting pits like a hot knife to butter. Now, a Khal of the Dothraki... and if rumors are true... the Father of Dragons." The man answered, his smile unwavering.

"I was told that a man has spoken for us and that we would be allowed entry into your... _magnificent_ city." Jon said with a forced smile, putting a bit more emphasis on his last words.

"Indeed. Xaro Xhoan Daxos has spoken for you. He has invoked our ancient custom of _Sumai_ and has chosen to vouch for you and your... khalasar." The Spice King explained, his tone jovial.

A tall dark man clad in blue silk walked up to them and bowed his head respectfully to Jon, "I am Xaro Xhoan Daxos, my khal. Welcome to Qarth, the greatest city that ever was or will be."

Jon inclined his head to him as well, "I thank you for your generosity and courage in allowing us to --"

"Might we see the dragons?" The Spice King interrupted.

Jon shot him a glare, astonished that the man had the audacity to speak over him.

"My dragons are not a public spectacle, merchant. My people are dying, we need food and water. If you would be so kind as to allow us entry, perhaps --"

"A living dragon has not been seen in this world for over a century." A thin man with lips tainted blue and deep sunken eyes spoke up from the small group of men, "It would appease the more skeptical members of the Thirteen as to the authenticity of your claim, Father of Dragons."

The rage boiled in Jon's empty stomach as he clutched Blackfyre's hilt, "I am no liar, ser. If anyone wishes to challenge my claim, they are free to come forward and test my blade. Or perhaps they would like to know how dragonfire feels as it melts the flesh off their bones."

Jon felt Jorah's hand on his shoulder, "Be careful, my khal."

The Spice King chuckled while the rest of the group, save for Xaro Xhoan Daxos, smiled knowingly.

"You are no doubt a true Targaryen, Aegon Stormborn." The Spice King commented.

"Enough." Stated Xaro Xhoan Daxos, "You have insulted my guest and his people long enough, Spice King."

"The Thirteen have not yet finished with him, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. Do you think we should so easily invite a dothraki horde and their savage king into our city?" The Spice King retorted, his smile vanished.

"The khal is not a criminal, and this is no trial. I am one of the Thirteen, am I not?" Responded the tall ,dark man, "May I remind you that it was I who invoked the _Sumai?_ Qarth didn't become the greatest city that ever was or will be by denying guest rights particularly a guest like the Father of Dragons. He is a true Targaryen and he will sooner burn our city to our ground if we turn his people away. Besides, what's a few dozen dothraki to the thousands of Qartheen nobles in our city?"

"But we--" the Spice King tried to say.

"It shall be on my head, as you had clearly stated in our council, Spice King.”

The Spice King growled under his breath and looking to the rest of the group, it was evident that Xaro Xhoan Daxos had the final word.

The guards and the Thirteen parted as Xaro Xhoan Daxos signalled to the sentries at the walls to open the gates.

“Qarth welcomes you Aegon Targaryen. Please, follow me.” Said their host as he led the way into the large city. Jon could see the shimmering blue of the sea from where he stood as the gates opened. He sighed in relief and motioned for his small khalasar to move forward.

It seemed that his fortunes were finally turning. Jon decided that after he had ensured the care of his people, he would go before the Thirteen to see if they were willing to assist him in securing a ship or more to sail to Westeros. He had never seen Westeros but Jon knew that it was time to go back. It was time to go home.

* * *

* * *

 

Dany grimaced as a strong wind blew snow into her eyes while she led her horse by the reins.

The Lord Commander's band of men and women from Castle Black were drawing close to the Fist of the First Men. It was an ancient defensible landmark said to have been used by the First Men many centuries go. It was there that they were to meet the ranging party from the Shadow Tower led by Qhorin Halfhand.

As they walked closer to the Fist, Dany heard a loud distant blast.

“What was that?” Dany shouted through the storm.

“It must be the Halfhand and his men!” Edd responded back.

“One blast for rangers, two for wildlings!” Pyp added as he pulled his horse closer to Mila to help shield her from the storm.

“Three for White Walkers!” Sam cried out.

The others looked at Sam curiously.

“The White Walkers haven’t been seen in centuries, how would you know that?” Grenn asked as he pulled his hood closer to his face.

“I read—”

“Read it in a book.” Both Edd and Nery finished, with Edd rolling his eyes and Nery trudging forward in the snow.

Dany shook her head in amusement as she and the others battled their way through the storm, leading their horses up the steep snowy slopes. She looked behind her and could see Ghost in a distance.

“Ghost!” Dany called out but her direwolf didn’t come to her.

“Where is he going?” Mila asked her, drawing close to her friend.

“I don’t know.” Dany said. Although she worried about her direwolf constantly, Ghost always managed to return just before she got anxious enough to go looking for him.

“He’ll come back, don’t worry.” Dany said to Mila, although she wasn't too convinced herself.

By the time they reached the top of the Fist, the storm had abated much to their relief. The Lord Commander had orders for them to set up camp and to unload the wagons. Edd was right in saying that the Halfhand had been waiting for them to arrive.

“Lord Commander!” Qhorin greeted, and then his gaze fell on the women of the Night’s Watch in the party who were helping to unload the horses.

“Has Castle Black run so short of men that the women are doing the ranging now?” The Halfhand asked with amusement.

“You and I both know that we can’t fight this war with men alone. These women are fighters. Any of your men touch them, they’ll walk away without a limb or two.” The Lord Commander responded.

The Halfhand laughed, “Aye. Well, the wildlings have their spearwives and we have our sisters.”

Dany couldn’t help but smile as she overheard the Halfhand and the Lord Commander speak. At least someone out here understood the value of having women in the front lines.

“Is it true then? About Mance Raydar gathering an army?” The Lord Commander asked.

Qhorin nodded, “From what we can tell he’s gathered together wildlings from different tribes all over the North. He's named himself the King-Beyond-the-Wall.”

“What exactly does he plan to be King of? Frozen rivers and forests?” The Lord Commander questioned condescendingly.

“Well, whatever he’s planning, Lord Commander, it can’t be good for any of us. He’s gathering an army for one purpose and that's to march them south.”

The Commander frowned and sighed deeply, “Are you saying we fall back to the Wall? And what of Benjen Stark and his men?”

Dany's ears perked up at the mention of her uncle.

“Haven’t seen or heard from Benjen Stark in months.” The Halfhand responded grimly.

“And talk of the Walkers?” The Commander asked.

The Halfhand shook his head, “ As far as we know, it’s still all talk. Some of our rangers have seen strange bodies lying about but we saw no wights yet. Though I hear Eastwatch had more sightings of dead men with blue eyes?”

“Aye. They had the sense to burn them straightaway. We should do the same for any man or woman who falls. I don’t want to risk getting attacked by one of those dead men ever again.” Said the Commander gtuffly as his eyes turned towards the Frostfang Mountains.

“Dead men or White Walkers. As much as they send the chill through my bones, it’s thoughts of Mance Raydar's army that keep me up at night.” The Halfhand confessed, “If we want to do something about that, we should strike them now before they march.”

The Halfhand signalled to the men and women around them, as people gathered around him, he pointed towards one of the cliffs in the distance.

“See that?” Qhorin asked.

Sam squinted, “I really don’t see very well.”

“Much use you are, Tarly.” Edd commented.

“There’s a fire.” Dany spoke up.

The Halfhand turned, surprised at hearing her voice and he nodded curtly, “Aye. A fire. One of the many lookouts surrounding this area. If the wildlings catch sight of us, their fire turns into a beacon and all seven hells will come raining down before we even get the chance to wipe our asses.”

“What’s your plan then?” asked the Lord Commander.

“We do what they do, sneak in and take out their army piece by piece. Kill Mance Raydar if we can and scatter them all to the wind. I mean to take a small group of rangers who are quick, silent and deadly. We take out those lookouts, as many as we can. We'll take the Skirling Pass and pray Mance Raydar doesn’t find us before we find him.”

The Lord Commander looked satisfied, “Take any of my people that you see fit to complete this task.”

Qhorin agreed and set about to assigning people in groups.

“Lord Commander!” Dany called as she walked towards her Commander, “I would like to ask your leave to accompany Lord Qhorin.”

Qhorin overheard her request and laughed out loud, “I’ve been called many things, girl, but this is the first ‘Lord Qhorin’ I’ve heard.”

“You’re no ranger, Snow. You’ve still got a lot to learn. I would think your experience with Craster showed you as much.” The Lord Commander retorted.

“I’ve killed a wight and I’m still the best fighter here. How many of the others can say the same?" Dany said forcefully.

“Is this her then?” The Halfhand asked looking at Dany curiously, “The bastard daughter of Ned Stark?”

The Lord Commander grunted, “You got yourself beat up and bloodied by an old man. You think you can do better fighting the wildlings? I need you here, Snow.”

"Well, Craster's a tough, old goat. I'd still think twice about crossing him." The Halfhand commented.

Suddenly, Sam spoke up, “I can take over Dawn's duties, Lord Commander. It won’t be any trouble and I’ll be glad to do it.”

“And I can keep on training the girls. I may not be as skilled as Dawn Snow, Lord Commander, but I can fight.” Mila added.

Dany looked at her friends in gratitude. They all knew how much being a ranger meant to her.

The Lord Commander looked around and finally his eyes settled on Qhorin Halfhand who gave a brief nod of his head.

“So be it then. Perhaps you’ll make a better ranger out there than an old man's steward. It’s been over half a century since we've had a woman ranger but with things going the way they are, perhaps it’s time to change as well.” The Lord Commander stated, albeit a bit reluctantly, as he jerked his head in the Halfhand’ s direction indicating his approval.

“Mila, if you see Ghost when he returns, watch over him for me.” Dany said as she touched Mila's shoulder. Mila nodded and gave Dany a small smile.

Dany took a deep breath and with one last look to the Commander and her friends, she walked behind the Halfhand as he continued to round up his scouting crew.

* * *

 

Dany closed her eyes. Her heart was racing.

It had been a day since they left the Fist. The Halfhand had taken his party, through the Skirling Pass and up one of the Frostfang mountains. After a few hours of careful scouting, they had located one of their targets and were now just a few steps away from a wildling lookout camp.

Dany looked to her side and saw the Halfhand, three of her brothers and one sister, Bertha, crouching low behind the icy stones.

Longclaw shook slightly in her hand but Dany took several deep breaths to keep herself calm.

“Are you ready to show me what you’re made of, girl?” The Halfhand whispered in her ear.

Dany nodded quickly.

The Halfhand directed the others to circle the wildling camp. There wasn’t too many of them, four wildings to their six.

As the Halfhand quietly moved to the opposite side, Dany swallowed hard waiting for his signal. One of the brothers had a bow and arrow and aimed it at the heart of one of the wildlings. The Halfhand nodded his head and the arrow flew.

Once the arrow had found its mark in the wildling’s breast, the Halfhand jumped from behind the rock and stabbed the first wildling that was in his path.

Dany moved out from her spot as well, one of the wildlings had grabbed an axe and she had to parry his swings a few times before she kicked the axe out of his hand and sliced his neck open.

As the wildling’s blood tainted her sword, she saw another wildling about to escape. Dany grabbed the fleeing wildling’s fur coat and pulled it back with a loud cry. The wildling groaned and fell to the ground.

Dany was about to drive the sword straight through the wildling’s chest when a flash of red hair from underneath the hood stopped her.

The wildling was a girl.

Dany grabbed her coat and held the tip of Longclaw to the wildling’s neck.

Bertha finished off the wildling with the arrow to his chest and shouted at Dany, “What are you waiting for?”

“She-She’s a girl.” Dany answered hesitantly.

“Aye, a wildling girl.” The Halfhand said as he walked towards Dany, sheathing his sword.

“She might know some things about Mance.” Dany said as she pulled the wildling’s hood down. Bright, red hair flowed down the girl’s shoulders.

“She might or she’ll bite off her tongue before talking. Seen it happen before.” The Halfhand scoffed as he drew closer to them. He pulled the wildling girl up to her feet and pushed her back against the rock.

“Do you know me, girl?” The Halfhand asked the wildling.

“Aye,” she replied, her voice was pleasant-sounding and yet had a hard grit to it, “You’re Qhorin Halfhand.”

Qhorin picked up an axe that was close to his feet and looked at Dany, “She was about to reach for this, you know? If she did, I’m damn sure she wouldn’t think twice about burying it deep into your face. I should know, I’ve felt the wildling axe before, glad to lose just three fingers for it. I hope you lose much less next time you come face to face with this.”

“What’s your name?” Dany asked the girl.

“Ygritte.” She responded, looking Dany up and down, “I’d like to hear your name, girl crow.”

“Dawn Snow.” Dany responded.

 “So, tell me, _Ygritte,_ ” Qhorin started as he threw the axe aside, “What lies beyond the pass?”

“The free folk,” she answered surely, “Hundred and thousands of them. More than you or any crow has ever seen.”

“And would the free folk take us prisoner if they caught us beyond the pass?” The Halfhand asked, though it was clear to Dany he was doing it for her sake more than his.

Ygritte grinned mockingly, “If they were kind, they’d take off your head quick, if not, they’d kill you nice and slow.”

The Halfhand gave Dany a look and then asked again, “What’s Mance planning? Are you going to attack the Wall when you march south?”

The girl gave no answer.

Qhorin sighed, “What’d I tell you. You won’t be getting no answers from her. We can’t risk letting her go and we don’t have the resources to take her with us. Better to end it now.”

Qhorin pulled his bloody sword from its sheath.

“No.” Dany stopped him with her hand before she stared hard at Ygritte, “I’ll do it.”

The Halfhand paused and then nodded slowly, “We’ll leave you to it then. Don’t take too long. We don’t know how many of them are hiding about. This is their country we’re walking in now. Meet us at the top when you’re done.”

“You’d best burn the bodies before you leave, crow.” Ygritte said urgently, “If you know what’s good for ya, you’ll burn them now.”

“And start a fire that’ll give us away? Don’t think so. Perhaps Dawn Snow can do you the courtesy of throwing you off the Fangs once you’re dead. Or if not, she’s killed a dead man before, perhaps a dead woman wouldn’t be as much a challenge.” He replied with a chuckle.

Dany held Longclaw up to Ygritte’s neck, the wildling’s back was still flat against the stone.

When the footsteps of her companions faded away, Ygritte took note of Dany’s hesitancy, “You never killed a girl before, have you?”

Dany said nothing as she grabbed Ygritte’s fur coat and threw her to the ground.

Ygritte laughed as she got on her hands and knees, “You’ve quite a grip for a girl crow. You don’t have to kill me, you know. You can join us. Mance was a crow before as well. He’ll tell you the things he’s seen and—”

“If you think me fool enough to betray my brothers and sisters, then you’ve no idea who I am, what I’m capable of.” Dany responded heatedly.

“Get on with it then.” The wildling said in a mocking tone.

Dany brought Longclaw just above the girl’s nape. Her red hair parting just enough to reveal the pale white of her skin.

In her head, Dany could hear the words of her father, _whoever passes the sentence should swing the sword._

“Strike hard and true, Dawn Snow.” Ygritte said, though her voice was shaking slightly as she spoke. “Or I’ll come back and make sure you do.”

 _Those were her last words. I better be quick._ Dany thought.

Dany yelled out as she brought Longclaw down.

Ygritte’s eyes flew open and before her was the longsword, struck into the ground before her. She turned to look up at Dany. Dany was breathing hard as she matched the wildling’s gaze.

Then, in a swift moment, Ygritte kicked Dany’s shin and elbowed her in the stomach. Dany grunted in pain as Ygritte pushed her aside and fled.

Dany cursed as she picked up Longclaw from the ground and grimacing through her pain, her eyes scanned quickly for the runaway as she got back up to her feet.

Ygritte moved fast and was already a good distance from her.

 _Fuck_ , Dany thought as she looked towards the top where she was meant to meet up with Qhorin.

_I can’t let her get away._

Dany decided to follow Ygritte and she sheathed Longclaw as she quickly gave chase. Dany’s eyes scanned the rocky area as she ran and realized that if she was fast enough, she might be able to cut Ygritte off if she slid down the mountain.

Mustering all the energy she could, Dany sprinted down the mountainside, jumping over boulders and rocks as she made her way across the snowy slope. Adrenaline pumped through her as she felt her leg muscles burn as she ran. It took a minute or two of nonstop running before she could see Ygritte passing just below her.

_If I jump at the right time, I’ll have her._

Ygritte’s red hair gave her away against the white backdrop of the snowy mountain. Dany pushed herself to run quicker and she jumped over a snowy mound, tumbling down the slope.

She landed just behind Ygritte who was panting hard as the wildling turned to see her dark-haired pursuer getting on her feet. Dany scrambled to get as close as she could to Ygritte. Dany roared loudly as she leapt forward and tackled Ygritte to the ground.

Drawing her knife from her sleeve, Dany pressed the thin blade to Ygritte’s throat as she huffed, “Move and I'll cut your throat, wildling.”

Ygritte grinned mockingly at her as she said through ragged breaths, “You sure about that, crow?”

Dany eyebrows knotted in confusion when suddenly, she felt a strong hand grab her hair and pull her backwards. There was another dagger that appeared but this time it was held against Dany’s own throat.

“Drop the knife.” A low voice said threateningly.

Dany gritted her teeth in anger but knowing she was subdued, dropped her weapon to the ground. Ygritte took the knife as she stood up and gave Dany a smug smile.

“Sorry I’m late, sister.” The low voice said. Dany moved her eyes to the side to see who had captured her.

It was a young boy barely a man, his hair as red and as wild as Ygritte’s. He had what looked like the fuzz of a growing beard along his jawline. He was clad in the same fur clothes that Ygritte had and the blade he held to Dany’s throat was crudely made and jagged.

“I told you not to go too far if all you had to do was piss.” Ygritte said angrily, “The crows killed the others but we have our own crow now.”

“This one’s a crow?” the boy asked before laughing, “They got girls fightin’ for ‘em now?”

Ygritte glared at him, “Aye and what’s that to you? You think a girl won’t be able to best you and cut that cheeky smile off your face if she wanted to?”

Ygritte, walked up to Dany and removed her sword belt along with Longclaw.

“Should we gut her now?” the man asked as he pressed the blade deeper into Dany’s skin.

Ygritte bent down to look Dany in the eyes, “No. She spared me life. Only right that I spare hers. We'll take her to Mance and see what he has to say. If he wants her dead, that’ll be on him.”

“What about her other crow friends?” The wildling brother asked as he lifted Dany to her feet.

Ygritte scoffed, “They'd be miles away by now.”

“They will come looking for me and when they do, they'll cut off both your heads. I know they will.” Dany threatened though she knew there was a trace of doubt in her voice.

The wildling girl laughed as she leaned her face close to Dany, “You know nothing, Dawn Snow.”

Then turning to her brother, she said, “Bind her hands, Roth. We’re taking the long way with this one.”

Roth sighed wearily as he pulled a thin string of rope from the sack he carried on his back.         

“Always got to be me doin’ all the work.” He grumbled.

Ygritte smacked him on the head, “I hear one more word, I’m taking your tongue. It’s ‘cause of you the others are dead.”

Dany listened while the red-headed siblings bickered, her hands bound tightly behind her back. She closed her eyes and prayed that the Halfhand and his team were indeed out looking for her. She was in a strange, bitter and cold place. She had left her pack behind and she had no weapons, save for the other blade hidden in her boot. But now her hands were bound, and even if she could escape, she wouldn’t know where to go.

Roth pushed her forward as they started to walk. Dany stumbled but quickly caught herself. As the three trudged through the snow, Dany looked up at the sky. The red comet was still there, though faint now and fading. It would be dark soon and Dany knew that once the light faded, so would all chance of anyone coming to her rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this wasn't intentional, but.... would any of you mind a Dany/Ygritte thing? LOL. I think I'll do it.  
> Have a good one!


	7. Valar Morghulis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon realizes that Qarth is no safe haven and Dany is given a new mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the super late update! Work and planning my dad's birthday has taken up so much of my time! 
> 
> Also just an update for you all who have been faithfully following my story, I will post the Jon and Dany season 7 storyline in a separate fic. Please do check that out as I will update that around the same time as I update this story.
> 
> If you are still interested in reading my versions of the backstory of Aegon and Dawn, please continue to stay tuned. I may be updating less as Christmas approaches coz that's busy time at my work. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Jon emerged from the doors of Xaro Xhoan Daxos’ home into the wide and spacious courtyard. No longer clad in his dusty, torn leather garments, he looked like a young aristocrat’s son clad in a dark rouge brocade tunic, new leather boots and an intricate golden belt weaved around his waist. A new scabbard and belt was fashioned for Blackfyre which Jon kept closely tied to his right hip. His face scrubbed clean of the dirt and grime of the desert and his long silver hair brushed and oiled was tied back with a black silk ribbon.

“You look quite dashing, mighty Khal. Akin to the Targaryen nobility of ages past. The Qartheen robes suits you well.” Xaro Xhoan Daxos said with a smile as he bowed his head to greet Jon.

Jon nodded cordially back to him, “I, once again, owe you a great debt of gratitude Xaro Xhoan Daxos for your hospitality and generosity.”

“Of course. It would be unbecoming of the wealthiest man in Qarth to withhold any luxury befitting a Prince of Westeros. My house, my servants and my company are as much yours as they are mine.” The Qartheen noble said with a bow.  

Jon managed an appreciative smile as he allowed his host to introduce him to various Qartheen nobles and elites.

An hour later, Jon grew bored and weary of the droll conversations and was relieved when he spotted Ser Jorah and Aggo on the other side of the courtyard. As he approached them, he could hear them softly arguing.

“[I tell you, the khal will not let you take it. Here he comes now.]” Ser Jorah said as he looked up at Jon.

“[What’s going on?]” Jon asked, looking at both his advisor and his bloodrider curiously.

“Aggo here claims that he can take away this golden statue without anyone noticing him. I’ve been attempting to tell him that, while the statue is too heavy for one man to carry alone, you would not be pleased if he did so.” The knight explained as he folded his arms.

The statue in question was that of a golden phoenix with precious gems adorning its chest, beak and eyes.

“[My khal,]” Aggo began as he held up his _arakh_ , [“The gold is soft and can be easily cut into pieces which we can melt once we’ve taken it all away.]”

Jon pushed away Aggo’s hand as he said firmly, “[You cannot do this, blood of my blood.]”

“[Why not?]” Aggo asked in a perplexed tone, [“They have more than enough of these golden birds, they wouldn’t miss this one.]”

“[Because I command it. Our host is a kind and generous man. I will not have you stealing any of his possessions.]” Jon responded in a low but direct tone.

Aggo looked disappointed as he gave one look at Ser Jorah before he walked through the crowd. Jon noticed him filching a golden cup that rested unattended on one of the benches.

“Ser Jorah, keep a close eye on my men and ensure that they keep their hands to themselves.” Jon said with an exasperated sigh.

“The Dothraki have made their living from taking things made or owned by better men.” Ser Jorah stated.

Jon rested his hands on his hips as he shook his head, “Indeed and they’re known for killing those better men as well. But that is not the kind of khal I want to be.”

“I’ll keep watch, my khal.” Ser Jorah said with a bow of his head as he followed after Aggo.

Jon turned towards the golden statue and reached out a hand to touch it when a masked woman approached him.

“Aegon Targaryen.” The woman whispered.

Jon withdrew his hand from the statue and looked up to find a strange woman in a red lacquer mask behind him. Her mask was made of metallic shapes welded together and from the two small holes, he could see her mysterious dark eyes peering closely at him.

“Who are you?” Jon asked.

“I am called Quaithe and I have a message for you, Father of Dragons.” She responded in a soft murmur.

Jon pressed his lips together as he unconsciously rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, “Speak it then.”

“Your dragons. They have brought magic back into the world.” Quaithe said as she ran her hand over the golden phoenix. “When people see them, they will lust after them. For dragons are fire made flesh and fire… is power.”

Jon narrowed his eyes as he listened to her.

 _Fire made flesh_ …

Jon had said the same words to himself before he walked into his wife’s pyre. He wondered if the woman was some sort of sorceress or seer.

Before Jon could say another word, she rested her hand on his as she drew close and whispered into his ear.

“Leave this place while you still can. Soon, they won’t allow you to. Remember, to go north you must go south, to go west you must go east and to go forward you must go back.”

She pulled back just enough so her face was inches away from Jon’s, her mysterious eyes meeting his questioning ones. She stepped back, bowed her head to him and disappeared in the crowd.

While Jon was still reeling from the bizarre encounter with the masked woman, another unexpected guest tapped Jon on his shoulder.

Jon turned to find the thin man with blue lips who had questioned him about his dragons.

“Good evening, Khal Aegon. I trust you’re enjoying our Qartheen comforts.” The man said with an eerie grin. His blue lips glistening in the glow of the lamps.

Jon managed a polite nod of his head, “Yes, Indeed. Xaro Xhoan Daxos has gone above and beyond in throwing this lavish welcoming feast for myself and my people. We are in want of nothing.”

“That is all well and good.” The blue-lipped man responded.

Suddenly, Jon heard his voice behind him, “When you have grown tired of Xaro’s tedious parties…”

Jon turned and stepped back in shock when he saw the same man standing behind him. His gaze switched back and forth between the two identical men.

_Was this some sort of parlour trick?_

“We would be most honored if you called on us at the House of the Undying, Father of Dragons. There is much we’d like to ask and more we’d like to tell.” The original man stated with a wider grin.

Jon gripped Blackfyre’s hilt tightly as he watched the strange man and his even stranger duplicate walk away together.

“Apologies. Pyat Pree is one of the Thirteen. It was necessary for him to be present to welcome you but I can assure you that his odd humour is not shared by many of us.” Xaro said apologetically as he appeared next to Jon.

Jon forced a smile, “It’s quite alright. But, might I ask, what is the House of the Undying?”

Xaro sighed, “It is the home of warlocks like Pyat Pree who, they say, perform a variety of dark magic spells while drinking Shade of the Evening, a potion which they claim heighten their powers and turns their lips blackish blue. But I don’t think you should concern yourself with these unnatural charlatans.”

Jon nodded though still not entirely at ease. Qarth was indeed an extraordinary place. His first night there was not even close to ending and already Jon felt apprehensive about staying another day.

“Will you walk with me?” Xaro asked with a friendly smile as he motioned towards a quieter area of the courtyard which led into an even larger garden lit with colorful paper lanterns. 

“Of course.” Jon responded as he walked alongside his host.

The two men passed by a variety of guests and entertainers as they walked through the gardens. As the night wore on, fireflies had descended around the low bushes and over the fragrant flora, providing an almost other-worldly light to the surroundings.

“If I may be so bold might I ask what it is that you plan to do once you and your small khalasar are well-rested and renewed in strength?” Xaro asked.

Jon knew this question was bound to come up sooner or later.

“I had hoped to appeal to the Thirteen for aid in securing ships to bear me to Westeros and if any of them are looking to be more than generous, enough gold to purchase an army, weapons and horses.” Jon confessed.

“So you mean to take back the Seven Kingdoms?” Xaro questioned with a small smile.

Jon looked at his host intently, “I made a promise to my khalasar that I would give them the world and more. I had promised the same to my wife and son, but they are both dead and gone. The Iron Throne belongs to my family, it is mine by right.”

Xaro chuckled, “You are every bit a conqueror as your ancestor. True to the very name you bear.”

Jon gazed over the gardens, “My life has been far from an easy one, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. Since I was born, I was taught one lesson, that my name is the one and only thing I truly own. I’ve known what it was like to have nothing, to be treated like I was nothing… but I was never nothing. Westeros is my home and the Seven Kingdoms belong to me.”

“I admire your ambition, Aegon Stormborn. Who wouldn’t? No Targaryen worth his fire would be who they are without a little ambition.” Xaro commented with admiration.

“So tell me,” Jon began, “Would the Thirteen be receptive to my request?”   

“Some members may need more coaxing than others. I can grant you an audience with us by midday tomorrow.”

Jon nodded and said sincerely, “You’ve done more than enough for me, my friend. I cannot thank you enough. But I am curious as to why you are so willing to help me, a foreigner and a stranger to you. Might I in turn be bold and ask what it is that you seek from helping me?”

 Xaro sighed deeply and he pondered on Jon’s question before answering, “I would like to propose an alternative approach to your plan of seeking aid from the Thirteen.”

Jon was curious, “Alright.”

“The Thirteen are nothing more than wealthy men all vying for position, wealth and security in one form or another. They are rooted and steeped in their ancient customs and their minds revolve around nothing but their own prospects in this prosperous but dated city. I, on the other hand, have my eye turned westward, towards a greater goal.”

Jon answered, “It seems the Targaryens are not the only ones with an aptitude for great ambitions. Tell me your proposal.”

“As the wealthiest man in Qarth, I can easily fund your conquest of Westeros. My gold can buy you the armies, ships and supplies you need. You won’t need to grovel in front of perfumed aristocrats for aid.”

“And in return?” Jon prompted, knowing there was always a price to such a grand gesture.

Xaro walked a few steps ahead of Jon and turned towards him, “Robert Baratheon is dead. In the wake of his death, five kings are now viciously vying for the right ot rule the Seven Kingdoms. Renly Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon and Joffrey Baratheon all lay claim to the throne while Robb Stark fights for the North and Balon Greyjoy for the Iron Islands. If rumors are true, it seems Joffrey was never Robert’s son but instead the product of incest between Tywin Lannister’s twin children, Queen Cersei and Jaime, the Kingslayer, the man who murdered your father.

Jon’s eyes widened upon hearing the news, “The usurper is dead?”

“Yes and if there is a good time to strike, my khal, it is now. Tywin Lannister and his forces are stretched thin, fighting on multiple fronts and losing every passing day.”

Jon looked away from him, allowing the news to sink in.

“Be that as it may, you still haven’t answered my question.” Jon stated, looking back at his host.

“In return for my gold, I want Casterly Rock and the Westerlands.” Xaro answered straightforwardly.

Jon stopped and looked at him in astonishment, “The Lannisters’ lands and stronghold?”

“Should you retake Westeros, I doubt the Lannisters will come running to your side.” Xaro hummed in amusement, “How well do you know your own lands, my khal?”

Jon slowly shook his head, “Not well, I’m afraid. I was never properly educated in the history of my homeland but I do know that the Lannister lands are the wealthiest in Westeros.”

Xaro nodded, “You are not wrong there. Casterly Rock sits upon a mountain of gold and Lannisport is a thriving and increasingly affluent port city. Not too different from Qarth.”

Jon finally understood, “So it seems you’re hoping to move up from the wealthiest man in Qarth to the wealthiest man of the world. You say you’re different from the other members of the Thirteen but from what I’m hearing, you want the same things they want. Power, position, wealth, security?”

Xaro chuckled again, “I never said they were wrong to seek those things, I was telling you that that’s the kind of men they are, and I am one of them. However, I seek to expand farther than the borders of Qarth and Essos itself. But I do this not just for myself, but I hope to establish a legacy for my family… my children.”

“Are you married?” Jon asked curiously.

Xaro sighed sadly, “Once. A long time ago when I was barely a man. But the gods cursed her with a sickness and she passed. She was the only one I ever loved and will ever love. But love doesn’t fill bellies nor does it move mountains.”

“And taking over the wealth of the world does?”

“It seems quite trivial, but yes. You know what it was like to come from nothing, I have as well. I also know that when the hour of misery and misfortune comes, and it always does, it is better to have much more than nothing.”

Jon remained silent, thinking over Xaro’s words. The gardens were quieter now as most of the guests had retired. The only sounds Jon could hear were the soft cries of evening crickets and the low buzz of the fireflies.

“And what of your legacy, Xaro Xhoan Daxos? If I were a woman, I would probably suspect your proposal to be one of marriage. But since I am not, and I have no sisters to wed to you. How do you plan on granting a legacy to your children?” Jon questioned, a slight harshness in his tone.

“A simple answer to a simple question, my khal.” Xaro replied, “When you retake the Iron Throne, I assume you would want to secure your own legacy and bear heirs. Should you have a little princess, I would hope that you’d want to ensure she would be well taken care of when she comes of age.”

Jon shut his eyes. The thought of children caused his heart to ache as he remembered the witch’s words.

_Until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east…_

Jon swallowed hard, “And if I don’t have any daughters?”

Xaro sighed again but with a smile, “That would be unfortunate, but I am sure there are many ways to ensure my bloodline mingles with yours whether in my time or beyond. I’m a patient and open-minded man. I can wait. All I need is a promise and Casterly Rock, and you will have all you desire, Aegon Stormborn.”

Jon slowly opened his eyes. Settling his gaze on the fireflies that rested over the shrubs. He could hear the beating of his heart and the slow breaths he took. He could have it all tonight, all he needed to say was yes and yet something felt wrong and he didn’t understand why.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos was waiting but Jon wasn’t certain of the answer he wanted to give.

* * *

 

* * *

“You sure this is your sword? You didn’t steal it off an old crow?” Ygritte asked as she played with Longclaw, moving the sword in and out of its sheath.

Dany glared at her wildling captor as she walked behind her, “I didn’t steal it and you shouldn’t play with it, it isn’t a toy.”

Ygritte stopped and turned to face her, she poked Dany on the shoulder with Longclaw’s hilt, “I can do whatever I want, girl crow. You’re our prisoner now.”

Dany scowled at her then groaned as Roth pulled hard on her rope. Her hands were bound in front of her now and Roth was leading her like a dog on a leash.

“Night’s coming close, we need to find shelter.” Roth grumbled.

Ygritte rolled her eyes as she followed after her brother, “You’ve gotten a lot grumpier of late, little brother. Perhaps it’s time to find you a woman to fuck, maybe that’ll cheer you right up.”

Roth’s face turned as red as his hair, “Well maybe if you weren’t shovin’ your tongue down the throat of every girl I’ve tried to fuck, I’d be doin’ one now, wouldn’t I?”

Dany turned her face away in disgust at the topic of their conversation. Ygritte took notice of it.

“Think you’re too good to talk about fucking, Dawn Snow? Pretty thing like you? Do you have a crow waiting for you back at your big Wall?” Ygritte said mockingly.

Dany said nothing as she pressed her lips together.

Ygritte continued to goad her, “Have you never lain with a man before?”

Dany lifted her head trying to fight the blush that crept up to her cheeks, “I’m a sister of the Night’s Watch. I swore an oath to never marry or bear sons. It’s a sacred vow and honor to—”

Dany stopped as Ygritte burst out laughing hysterically.

“Did you hear that Roth? This pretty crow is just like you. Untouched.” Ygritte said, enunciating the last word as she ridiculed her two companions.

They both said nothing in response as they continued trudging through the heavy snow.

“Maybe you two need to fuck each other. Get it over with. Make you both less dull.” Ygritte suggested cynically as she returned to playing with the longsword.

“There’s a cave ‘round the bend. Look after the crow and start a fire, I’ll hunt us some supper.” Roth muttered as he handed Ygritte the rope and removed the bow that he had worn around his chest.

“You got no arrows.” Ygritte noted with a nod as she took the rope.

“I’ll make some.” Her brother answered simply, “There’s some trees to the west. Probably find a rabbit or two if I’m lucky.”

Without another word, Roth had passed Ygritte his pack and set off westward, disappearing over a snow-covered boulder.

Ygritte shook her head as she tugged on Dany’s rope.

“Just you and me then.” Ygritte sighed as she led the way down the snowy hill.

“What cave was he talking about? I don’t see anything here but snow and rocks.” Dany commented as she followed grudgingly behind Ygritte.

Ygritte grinned smugly, “It’s ‘cause you’re not looking hard enough. The Free Folk, we’ve roamed these mountains for years and years. We know every stream, every river, ever forest. If you joined us, I could show ya. Where to hunt, where to fish. How to be free.”

“I'm already free.” Dany muttered.

“No you’re not, you’re a prisoner, my prisoner.” Ygritte corrected tugging hard on Dany’s rope to remind her of her captivity.

“I meant that I’m no slave to anyone.” Dany responded.

“You don’t know what it is to be truly free.” Ygritte stated, “To wake when you want, hunt where you want, live where you want, lie with who you want. No one tells me to do anything. You not tired of old lord crows telling you what to do?”

“They don’t tell me what to do.”

Ygritte laughed aloud again and said in an exaggerated high pitched voice, “Oh, look at me, I’m Dawn Snow. I’m a sister of the Night’s Watch. I think I’m free because I don’t marry no man and have no babies and let the lord crows tell me what to do, what to eat, who to fuck—”

Dany pulled on her cord forcefully and yelled, “Stop it!”

“Stop it.” Ygritte mimicked mockingly and then asked, “How old are you, girl?”

“I am not a girl.” Dany seethed, “I’m a woman of the Night’s Watch and if I had that sword in my hand, I can show you exactly what I could do with it.”

Ygritte grin faded but the smugness lingered on her brow, “You had your chance to show me, Dawn Snow. Pity you’re good little heart couldn’t make you do it.”

“That was my mistake.” Dany responded with vitriol, “I won’t let it happen again.”

There was a hint of admiration in Ygritte’s eyes, “Better not.”

Ygritte led Dany close to a tall cliff. Dany still couldn’t see any sign of an opening in the rock wall. But just as she and Ygritte turned a corner, there it was. A large gap in the rock that opened into a small alcove.

The red-haired wildling pulled Dany to move in front of her and she pushed her into the cave.

“Believe me now, crow?” Ygritte asked as she tied the end of the rope around her wrist as she surveyed the cave. It seemed like the cave had been used before and on the ground were enough leftover twigs and small branches to gather to make a small fire.

Ygritte shoved Dany to a corner of the cave and started to pick up the debris to provide kindling for a fire. She reached into the pack that Roth had given her and took out a piece of flint along with a small steel tool. In a few minutes, Ygritte had a small fire going and she rubbed her hands over the fire.

Dany was impressed though she tried hard not to show it. She thought that perhaps her initial thoughts of wildlings as nothing but primitive savages were misplaced. Maybe there was some truth to what Ygritte had told her.

"You can come closer to the fire if you want." Ygritte said without looking up at Dany, "Better a living crow than a dead one if you want to talk to Mance."

"And why exactly would I want to talk to your 'King-Beyond-the-Wall'?" Dany grumbled as she leaned her back on the wall, "He's a traitor. He broke his vows and betrayed the Night's Watch."

"Aye, because he wanted to be free. Wec hose him as our King because he was the right man to unite us all. We didn’t choose him cause of who his father is. He isn’t like your shit southern kings." Ygritte responded forcefully, "And Mance knows that killing us Free Folk is wrong!"

"The wildlings have raided our lands for centuries! My people have bled and died at your people's hands as much as yours have died at ours!" Dany retorted.

Ygritte stood up and snapped, "But these aren't your lands. You came in, put a big ice wall between us and took the southern lands as if it was yours by right. The Free Folk have been here all this time, safe and free until your people started attacking us!"

Dany glared back, "I may be a bastard girl, wildling, but my father was Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell and the blood of the First Men runs through my veins just as much as it is in yours."

Ygritte walked towards Dany and knelt in front of her so her face was inches away from hers, "If the same blood runs through us, then why are we fightin'?"

Dany didn't have an answer as Ygritte's blue grey eyes stared intently at her own dark grey ones.

The sound of footsteps approaching the cave drew their attention. Ygritte straightened up quickly and pulled Longclaw from its sheath.  She leaned her back against the wall ready to charge at the intruder.

A mop of red hair came into their view and Ygritte breathed a sigh of relief.

"Were you gonna swing that at me?" Roth asked as his eyes looked at Longclaw.

Ygritte sheathed the sword back and skewed her lips, "I had a mind to."

Two rabbits were slung over his shoulder as he walked into the small cave.

Dany watched as Roth and Ygritte took out their knives and started to field dress both rabbits. Their hands worked swiftly and easily as they peeled the coats off the rabbits' skin.

As Dany continued to observe them, her eyes felt heavy. Hours of non-stop walking had left her exhausted and hunger left her faint. Before she knew it, Dany had fallen asleep against the cave wall.

* * *

Dany woke up to the smell of burned meat, her head was laying against the cold hard rock and her hands were still bound in front of her.

As she opened her eyes, for a moment she had forgotten where she was until her vision refocused on the two wildlings who were sitting by the fire murmuring in soft voices. Darkness had already settled in outside the cave and the only source of light came from the small fire that burned a few feet away from her.

"Did the little crow enjoy her beauty sleep?" Ygritte said as she noticed Dany stirring.

As Dany sat up, Roth stood and pulled Dany to her feet as he grabbed the front corners of her coat. Without a word, he plopped her closer to the fire and he handed her a half-eaten rabbit on a spit.

Dany glanced down at the rabbit, and hesitated. Though she could feel her stomach churning, Dany was unsure about sharing food with wildlings.

"Pride won't feed your hunger, crow. Take it." Roth muttered as he pushed the stick into her hand.

 _He has a point_ , Dany thought and without another word, she started to tear her teeth into the meat ravenously. The taste of the burned meat was a heavenly respite to her and she feasted on the small rabbit quickly.

She only looked up when she had finished the meat down to its bones, the two wildlings starting at her intently.

 _Did they just watch me eat the entire time?_ Dany thought as she wiped her mouth with the sleeve over her wrist.

Roth passed Dany his water bag and this time, she took it without question and drank thirstily.

"Never seen a starving crow before." Ygritte said with a grin, "Beautiful to watch."

Dany felt her cheeks burning as she passed the bag back to Roth.

“We should head out at first light, Mance's camp ain’t too far now.” Ygritte told Roth.

Roth nodded, “Aye. But if we head south, we could bring this one to the Lord of Bones?”

“The Lord of Bones?” Ygritte asked with surprise. “Is he close?”

Roth nodded again, “Half a day's walk from here.”

Ygritte looked deep in thought before she answered, “Aye, to the Lord of Bones then.”

Dany didn’t know who or what the Lord of Bones was but whoever he was, he didn’t sound any better than Mance Raydar. Dany knew she had to escape and soon.

She waited until her captors were fast asleep. It took several hours until she could clearly hear their slow and soft breathing. Roth was snoring quietly in a corner while Ygritte was curled up next to the fire.

Dany moved her hands to her boot and carefully drew the knife she had sheathed next to her ankle. As she lay back on the ground, she turned her back away from the fire so they would think she was asleep.

Carefully she positioned the blade against the rope tied around her wrists and started cutting through it. In a few seconds the rope slipped to the ground and Dany looked behind her to see if either of her captors had stirred. She breathed a silent sigh of relief when neither of them moved from their positions or changed their breathing patterns.

She rubbed her wrists where the rope had cut in. She looked around for Longclaw and she grimaced. Her sword was tucked underneath Ygritte and Dany did not want to make a foolhardy attempt to retrieve it. As much as she tried to convince herself, her heart ached at the thought of leaving the sword given to her by the Lord Commander. But it was a choice to either escape without the  sword or not escape at all.

Dany silent moved to a crouching position, her knife in her right hand and stealthily crept out of the cave. When she was sure that her footsteps were out of earshot, she stood up and sprinted.

She wasn't sure where she was headed but only knew that she had to run as far away from these wildlings as she could. Thankfully, a pale moon was out and the sky was clear. What little light the moon could cast was enough for Dany to make out the barren icy landscape.

She panted hard as she scrambled over rocks and moved down the hillside. She ran as far and as fast as her legs could carry her. After a few moments, Dany bent over, her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breathe. She straightened up to get her bearings when suddenly she was tackled to the ground by a heavy figure.

“You stupid fuckin' crow! Did you think you could escape just like that?” It was Roth and his voice was furious as he held Dany down.

Dany still had her knife in her right hand which she brandished furiously but Roth tightly held both her hands, holding her back as she strained to push the knife towards him.

She gritted her teeth and groaned as she mustered all of her strength to push against him. Dany moved her knee to kick him in the stomach and Roth cursed out loud as he rolled off her.

Dany started to scramble to her feet but his hand grabbed her calf and she fell. He attempted to move atop her again. Dany tried to kick him off but he was quicker. He grabbed her hand which held her knife and before she could move, Roth swung his fist to her face. As the hard blow connected to her temple, Dany felt the last ounce of her strength leave her and her world turned black.

* * *

 

* * *

 “This could be our only chance of returning home! The usurper is dead. The Starks and the Lannisters are at each other throats and the Baratheons are tearing each other apart. Xaro is right, now is the time to strike!” Jon stated vehemently as he slammed his fist to the table.

Jon had just confided in Ser Jorah the conversation he had with the Qartheen merchant in the gardens. Ser Jorah was none too pleased to hear it and strongly disagreed.

“You must listen to me.” Ser Jorah implored with a stern glare, “You cannot win the Seven Kingdoms by selling yourself to a rich merchant!”

“I am not selling myself!” Jon retorted, “What Xaro wants is Casterly Rock and in return he will give me an army, ships and resources to take back what belongs to me.”

Ser Jorah exhaled hard through his nostrils as he attempted to control his voice, “The people of Westeros will stand behind you because of your name, your birthright and because you would be a just and righteous King. You may deny it, my khal, but you have a good heart. That is what will win you the Iron Throne. If you give away one of the Seven Kingdoms to this man, the people would see you as the king who was bought by an unknown foreigner. In turn, they will see him as holding the true power and not you.”

“Casterly Rock is the stronghold of the Lannisters. The Lannisters killed my father, Ser Jorah. They are my enemies.” Jon pointed out in a caustic tone.

“They are.” Ser Jorah agreed, “But the Lannisters are Westerosi, my Prince. They aren't foreign invaders.”

“And is that what you think I am? A foreign invader?” Jon asked with his teeth gritted.

Ser Jorah responded wearily, “No. Of course not.”

Jon scoffed in frustration and folded his arms as he paced his room. After pondering the situation in silence, Jon turned to the knight.

“So tell me then, Ser Jorah. How can I take back the Seven Kingdoms without Qartheen gold?” Jon asked in a quieter but no less irritated voice.

“We win back Westeros with our allies in Westeros. Not in Essos. Not in Qarth. You only need one ship to sail across the Narrow Sea.” Ser Jorah responded firmly.

Jon walked towards the open window, resting his arm on the sill.

“Just one ship?”

“Yes, my Khal. One ship with a good, astute captain and a hardy crew.”

Jon breathed out deeply, “Very well. Find me this ship, Ser Jorah. I will reconsider Xaro’s offer and see if I can proposition the good rulers of Qarth instead for additional aid.”

Jorah’s face eased with relief as he bowed his head before leaving Jon's quarters.

When he heard the door closed, Jon walked towards the large bird cage that housed his sleeping dragons.

Viserion, the golden one, opened his sleepy eyes and lifted his head.

Jon unbolted the cage and held our his hand to his small gold-winged dragon. Viserion purred in his reptilian voice and hoped unto Jon’s hand. Jon reached into a pot beside the cage and took out a small chunk of meat.

Viserion snapped his tiny jaw greedily. Jon brought his dragon to the window sill and laid the meat on the stone surface.

“ _Dracarys._ ” Jon said in a soft voice. Viserion tilted his head at Jon's voice.

“Come on, little one. You know what to do. _Dracarys_.” Jon repeated. Of his three dragons, Viserion had yet to breathe flame. Drogon and Rhaegal learned quickly enough but Viserion was the smallest and most timid of the three.

 _Just like Viserys, you’re a slow learner, little one. But you will learn. You have to._ Jon thought.

“ _Dracarys_.” Jon said one more time.

Viserion looked down at the cut of meat and after a bit of hesitation, he opened his small mouth and a thin streak of flame jetted out and burned the chunk of meat into a crisp blackened char.

Jon smiled as he watched Viserion reach down and gobble the burned meat, “Well done.”

He picked up the golden dragon and returned him to the cage where the others were fast asleep.

As Jon bolted back the locks, he grasped the cage bars and gazed at his dragons.

_My children… the only ones I’ll ever have._

Jon thought of Val and their son. He thought of Mirri Maz Dhur and her curse. He thought of the daughter Xaro would’ve claimed for his bride.

Jon leaned his head against the bars.

 _Grow quickly, little ones._ Jon begged silently. _I need your strength, your wings and your fire._

_Fire made flesh…_

The mysterious woman, Qaithe, and her words of warning echoed in Jon's head.

Jon knew that he had to leave as soon as he could. He hoped Jorah would come through with his task. He would take his dragons and his people and sail far away from this city.

Jon drew the curtains over the cage and whispered, “Sleep well, little ones. Tomorrow, the work begins.”

* * *

 Jon threw his glass of wine across the room, where it shattered against the wall, its contents staining the crystalline surface dark red.

“They refused me! All of them!” Jon shouted irately with his fists clenched as he stood in Xaro's spacious solar.

Xaro sighed, “I warned You, great khal. The Thirteen, the Pureborns, and all the other guilds of Qarth neither trust nor respect you. They call you a beggar king like your now deceased brother and they believe supporting you would be a fruitless and unlucky investment.”

“Is that all you bloody Qartheens care about? Loss and profit?” Jon spat as he glared at him.

“That is how Qarth became the greatest city that ever was—”

“Hang this damned city and the profligate fools who run it.” Jon seethed as he pounded his hand against the stone pillar by the window.

“If you had accepted  my proposition, you’d be halfway across the Narrow Sea by now with an army at your side.” Xaro chided gently.

Jon flashed a fiery glare at him, “Do not speak to me as if I were a child. I have my reasons for declining your offer and I stand by them.”

Xaro bowed his head apologetically, “I meant no disrespect, my Khal. I only wish to help.”

“You only wish to use me to raise yourself.” Jon responded bitterly, “Is there no one in this forsaken city that I can truly trust?”

Just then, there was a loud rand urgent rap that interrupted them. Xaro frowned and walked towards the door and opened it.

It was Aggo and there was blood streaming down his face from a cut above his eye.

“[Blood of my blood. What's happened?]” Jon asked as he walked towards his bloodrider and held him by the shoulders.

“[They moved so quickly. Too many of them. Ten of our men dead.]” Aggo replied, his eyes in a daze.

“[Who? Who did this?]” Jon demanded as Xaro watched them with concern.

“[The men with blue lips.]” Aggo answered.

“The men with blue lips?” Jon repeated as he turned to look at his host.

Xaro's eyes widened, “Pyat Pree and the warlocks?”

“[My Khal, there is something else.]” Aggo continued.

Jon turned his eyes back to Aggo, “[Tell me.]”

“[The dragons. They’re gone.]”

* * *

Jon stood in front of the empty cage. The cage door had been ripped off and the room was in wild disarray.

Jorah came running into the room. Xaro Xhoan Daxos and Aggo were there as well.

“I came as soon as I heard. I should have been here. I should have—”

“You should have done many things, Ser Jorah,” Jon started, his back still turned to them, “But you were off finding me a ship.”

“And I found one, my Khal. A good ship, with a captain and crew willing to take us and your Dothraki. They are sailing for Astapor tonight. We should sail with them  and leave this cursed place.” Ser Jorah urged.

Jon turned to look at him, a dark shadow on his face, “I am not going anywhere without my dragons.”

“The warlocks are not the kind of people you want to cross, my Khal. They deal with poisons and beasts of the dark kind. Perhaps there is some truth to the dark powers they possess.” Xaro added.

“I will take back my dragons from those who stole them from me! And they will die with their screams turning to ash in their throats!” Jon cried out in a strong voice. His dark purple eyes ablaze.

“This House of the Undying. Take me to it.” Jon demanded as he walked close to Xaro.

Xaro looked back at him with a fearful gaze, “Are you certain—”

“Test my patience further, Xaro Xhoan Daxos and you will feel Blackfyre’s steel through your throat.” Jon threatened as he drew his longsword.

Xaro held up his hands in defense, “As you wish. I will take you there.”

“Let me come with you.” Ser Jorah said, his hand on his own sword.

“No,” Jon responded in a low voice, “Stay with that ship, Ser Jorah. Ensure it doesn’t leave without us. Give them whatever they ask. Our host will graciously assist us in this matter.”

Xaro's eyebrows shot up but Jon shot him a look before he could respond.

“This will be your parting gift to me, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. In return, I will spare your life and not burn your palace down.” Jon declared, a snarl in the corner of his lips.

“B-but I spoke for you. I bled to let you in!” Xaro insisted, flabbergasted at the threats Jon was directing towards him.

“Yes and you also tried to manipulate your way into gaining control over one of my kingdoms. My dragons were stolen from under your roof. Whether or not you had a hand in their theft is still to be determined. But don’t pretend for a moment that I trust you or consider you a friend.” Jon replied as he drew closer to Xaro, “You will take me to these thieving warlocks and while I am there, you will go with Ser Jorah to the docks and pay for my ship. Once I leave with my dragons, my khalasar and I will board that ship and you will never see my face again.”

“So be it then.” Xaro declared, all his geniality dissipated, “And may Qarth never open it’s gates to a Targaryen ever again.”

“The next time a Targaryen comes to Qarth will be to burn it to the ground.” Jon uttered viciously.

Jon turned his gaze towards his bloodrider.

“[Aggo, gather the khalasar and go with Jorah the Andal.]” Jon commanded.

Aggo looked concerned, “[I will go with you my Khal.]”

Jon shook his head and repeated, “[No. My command is to go with Jorah. Do this, blood of my blood.]”

Aggo reluctantly nodded his head as he held his _arakh_.

When he and Ser Jorah exited the room, Jon looked back at his Qartheen host.

“If you call the guards on my people, prevent our departure or harm them in any way, you will feel my wrath Xaro Xhoan Daxos and I’m sure you’ve heard what happens to those who cross me.”

Xaro scowled, “I’m a merchant, not a fighter or murderer. I want you out of this city as much as you do and I will do all in my power to speed that process.”

“Good.” Jon responded, “Now lead on. My dragons are waiting.”

Xaro grudgingly walked out of the room and Jon followed after him, returning Blackfyre to its sheath.

As they walked through the streets of Qarth, Jon kept his fists clenched and his eyes set forward.

The only thoughts running through his mind were the torn bleeding throats of the warlocks and their tower in dark flames.

 _Fire and Blood…_ Jon vowed, his House words in his head, _Fire and  Blood…_

* * *

* * *

 “Get up!”

Dany groaned in pain as a hard boot kicked her in the stomach.

Her head was heavy and throbbing, she could taste blood on her lip and she coughed as she opened her eyes. The sunlight burned through her squinted eyes as she hid her face behind her bound hands.

A strong hand grabbed the back of her coat and lifted her up to her feet. Though she ached, she was able to stay on her feet.

She was shoved roughly out of the cave and back out into the icy landscape. Dany noticed that the ropes that bound her hands were much tighter and wound around her fingers so that her palms were pressed together. She was now deprived of all of her weapons and she felt dizzy as she followed behind the two red-headed wildlings.

Her two captors were engrossed in deep conversation and although Dany couldn’t hear them, she thought even if she did, she no longer had the capacity to care. She felt defeated. She felt abandoned. She felt alone.

She wondered why the two hadn’t bothered to kill her even after her attempted escape.

 _Perhaps they want this Lord of Bones to torture me first_ Dany thought as she trudged heavily through the snow. Whatever they were going to do, Dany resolved to remain true to the words she swore.

 _It will not end until my death…_ Her Night's Watch vows passed through her mind.

 _I won’t betray them_ , Dany promised herself, _I won’t._

They had seemed to walk for miles without stopping. Dany had stumbled more than a few times but was always pulled back to her feet without a word. Then when it seemed as if Dany could no longer take a step, she noticed that they were no longer alone.

The three of them walked atop a frozen lake, the water frozen solid in the sub-zero temperatures. Surrounding them were men clothed in a similar garb as the two wildlings. They all held crudely made spears in their hands. Dany noticed the spears were of a similar make to the dagger that Roth had held to her throat a few days ago.

“We brought you a gift, Lord of Bones.” Ygritte declared as she tugged hard and Dany feel to her knees.

Dany looked up and standing before her was a man who wore a skull for a mask, the white bony fractures jutting out like spikes. His eyes were cold and hard as he glared down at her.

“What’s this?” The man's gruff voice asked.

“A crow, Lord of Bones. A girl crow.” Roth answered as he folded his arms.

“A girl crow? Haven’t heard of a girl crow in years.” The Lord of Bones muttered.

“Well now you have. We're takin' her to Mance but thought you might want to see her first.” Ygritte said with her smug smile.

The Lord of Bones scoffed, “We already got a crow.”

Dany looked behind the Lord of Bones and noticed a familiar figure.

Kneeling next to a stone surrounded by three wildlings was Qhorin Halfhand. He looked bruised and beaten but otherwise he was still alive.

Dany felt relieved to see him but then she looked around and realized he was the only one from her team that was held prisoner.

 _Where are the others? Are they dead? Are they dead because of me?_ Dany asked herself.

“Unless you mean for her to be fucked by my boys, we don’t need her.” The Lord of Bones said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Ygritte stood in front of Dany, “Mance will want to question her. Have Mance decide her fate. She could have killed me many times but she didn’t.”

“She should have. What would Mance want with a girl crow?” The Lord of Bones asked in irritation.

“Don’t know.” Ygritte answered, “But she’s the bastard daughter of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. Mance will want her, I’m telling ya. She’s a lord’s daughter. Don’t think he'll be too happy if she were spoiled or gutted. Not when we can make her one of us.”

“One of us?” The Lord of Bones laughed.

“She’s a good fighter. This here's her sword. She’s pretty quick with a knife too. Almost cut Roth in half when he chased her down. We can use her and Mance will as well.” Ygritte petitioned in a firm voice.

Dany looked curiously at this red-haired wildling girl. Why was she defending her? Dany noticed Roth was silent and his face had an unreadable expression.

The Lord of Bones looked at Ygritte then down at Dany.

“If she runs, I’m taking one of her pretty crow eyes.” The Lord of Bones told Ygritte.

Ygritte grinned, “She already run once. Next time she does, I’ll take both eyes meself.”

The Lord of Bones grunted his response and he motioned for one of his men to take Dany.

Dany was pulled up by her ropes and she was dragged toward the Halfhand. The wildling who took her threw her roughly on the ground. Dany grimaced as she pushed herself to her knees, she looked sideways at Qhorin and she shook her head.

“I couldn’t do it.” She said in a low voice racked with remorse and guilt, “I couldn’t kill her.”

“I know.” The Halfhand replied in his gruff voice, “And now here we are.”

Dany swallowed hard as she looked away.

“We went back to look for you. But they found us first.” The Halfhand added grimly.

Dany looked back at him, “The others? Bertha?”

He didn’t respond and Dany knew her answer. She gritted her teeth and fought back the tears that threatened to fall.

“You gonna cry, girl? Tears won’t bring them back.” Qhorin muttered, “But there’s still a way for you to avenge them. Have their deaths mean something.”

Dany looked at him in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Just then, the Halfhand was pulled to his feet by one of the wildlings, “Time to go, Halfhand.”

Dany was pulled up as well. They tied her rope to the Halfhand’s so they were both strung along on the same line.

As they were led on the mountainside, the Halfhand walked close to Dany and whispered to her.

“Mance is going to march on the Wall soon. We need a plan to stop that from happening. I heard that red-head wildling girl say something about turning you into one of them.”

“She wants me to be ‘free’.” Dany grumbled back sarcastically.

“Aye, and you can be. You can be free of these bounds and you can do what a thousand of our people can’t.” The Halfhand replied.

Dany shook her head, “They’ll never trust me. How can I make them believe that I turned cloak just like that?”

“That wildling boy, the one with red hair. Is he that girl’s brother?”

Dany narrowed her eyes, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I saw the way he looks at you.” The Halfhand stated in a matter-of-factly tone.

“Like he wanted to rip my guts out?” Dany answered bitterly.

“No,” Qhorin continued, “Boy’s got an eye for you. Can’t say I blame him. If I were many winters younger I’d feel the same.”

Dany rolled her eyes, “There’s no time for that and even if there was, we’re their prisoners. I’m pretty sure we’ll both have our heads on a spike by the time we reach Mance’s camp.”

The Halfhand furrowed his brows, silent for a moment as he was deep in thought. Then he looked intently at Dany.

“Remember what I asked you, Snow? Before we attacked that wildling lookout on the pass?”

Dany didn’t understand what he meant but she nodded, “You asked if I was ready to show you what I was made of.”

“Aye,” The Halfhand said in a soft voice, “So are you?”

Before Dany could respond, the Halfhand shoved her hard and she fell forward to the ground.

“You treacherous bitch!” The Halfhand screamed as he kicked his boot into Dany’s back, “You’re in love with that wildling boy, aren’t you? Is that why you let them kill your sworn brothers? Your sister? They’re rotting in the ground ‘cause of you! You traitor’s bastard!”

Dany groaned with each hard kick and the group of wildlings stopped to see what the commotion was about.

The Halfhand bent over Dany and wrapped the rope that bound his hands around her neck. She gasped for air as she choked.

“Enough of that!” The Lord of Bones roared as he motioned to one of his men to pull the Halfhand away from Dany.

Dany wheezed as she got back up on feet, the heat of the rope burned her neck as she breathed.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance, girl. I knew what a bloody fool the Lord Commander was in getting women to fight for the Watch! Women are nothing but weak, faithless bitches who can’t wait to suck the next cock they see.” The Halfhand taunted savagely as two wildlings held him back.

Dany felt fury build in her chest and she yelled as she ran towards him but two other wildling men held her arms.

“If the crows want to kill each other, let them kill each other. Give them both a sword. I’d like to see this girl crow fight.” The Lord of Bones said, amused at the brawl that was unfolding.

The one holding Dany’s right shoulder, cut her ropes and thrust a sword in her hand. Once the Halfhand’s ropes were free, he elbowed the wildling closest to him in the gut and stole his sword. He hollered as he came at Dany, swinging furiously at her.

Dany parried his swings quickly but avoided any fatal attacks. She knew what he was trying to do but she didn’t want to kill him. She stepped backwards and dodged his strikes. Her heart was beating wildly, she could feel it pumping strongly in her chest. As she ducked to avoid his next swipe, she bent down and shoved Qhorin hard in the ribs with her shoulder, knocking him to the snow.

Dany breathed hard holding up her sword.

“Is that it, girl? That all you got? Did your lord father not teach you how to swing a sword?” The Halfhand sneered as he got back up to his feet, “Or maybe he did and this pathetic display is all there is. Maybe that’s how he got his traitor’s head chopped off.”

Dany couldn’t bear to listen to his words. Dany thrust her sword angrily at him, grunting hard as he parried her heavy blows. He butted his head hard against hers which sent her reeling back.

“Hit me harder bastard!” he yelled as he fell his sword upon her but Dany blocked it in time and pushed against him. He shoved her roughly and attempted to slice her in the gut but Dany jumped back.

Every move he made was a near fatal strike if not for Dany’s quick evasive sidesteps.

When the Halfhand swung his sword at her again, Dany twisted her body enabling her to cut his thigh with the edge of her blade with a loud cry.

Qhorin groaned in pain and frustration as Dany parried his attacks twice before she moved behind him and sliced his back.

Blood spewed and stained the white snow red.

“You can’t kill me girl. Just like you couldn’t kill that wildling. You’ve no stomach for it. You’re just a highborn girl who thinks she can play at being a man.” Qhorin growled as he turned and staggered towards her, “Maybe you should have been a whore instead, like your mother.”

Dany yelled with rage as she disarmed the Halfhand, sending his sword flying to the ground as she made one more move and slashed open his stomach.

Qhorin gave a deathly groan as he fell on his knees, his insides spilling out into the snow.

Dany laid her sword against his neck. Her cheeks wet with tears she hadn’t noticed she shed. But her dark grey eyes saw clearly. Her chin trembled as she pressed the blade hard on his skin.

 _I’m sorry… I don’t want to do this… Forgive me…_ Her eyes screamed at him hoping that he would understand.

There was a ghost of a smile on his lips and his eyes betrayed a slight glint of satisfaction and respect. She had done what needed to be done.

All in the name of duty.

“Sword in the darkness…” she heard him mumble as his eyes glazed over, looking up at her, “We are the watchers on the…”

Dany clenched her jaw as she brought her sword across the Halfhand’s neck, splitting his throat wide open. She watched with woeful eyes as he fell forward at her feet. All around her, the snow covered ground was bathed in dark red blood. The wildlings had circled them during their fight and they all stared at the Halfhand’s dead body in stunned silence.

The Lord of Bones stated quietly to Ygritte, “So the girl can fight.”

“She did more than fight.” Ygritte answered as she looked at Dany in mild admiration, “She killed Qhorin Halfhand.”

Dany threw the bloody sword to the ground, in dumbfounded disbelief at what she had just done. She turned her eyes from Qhorin’s body to Ygritte’s wide blue-grey eyes.

“Burn the body.” The Lord of Bones commanded his men. Five of his men came forward and dragged the dead body away.

“Are ya alright?” Roth asked as he approached Dany and stood beside her, his concerned tone a drastic change from the vengeful voice he used when he had woken her up at the cave.

Dany managed a slight nod as Ygritte came close to her as well.

“You were right,” Dany told Ygritte as she looked at the wildling girl, “I am tired of being told what to do by old lord crows.”

Ygritte nodded her head slowly, “Come along then, Dawn Snow. Mance’s camp is not too far now. The King-Beyond-the-Wall will want to hear how a girl crow took down the Halfhand.”

Ygritte walked in front of her and Dany followed. Roth was a few steps behind.

Though she hid it under her cloak, her hands were trembling. Dany looked back and saw Qhorin Halfhand’s body in flames. She could smell the burning flesh as she walked away.

She wiped the dampness from her cheeks where the tears had fallen while she was fighting the Halfhand.

She remembered his last words. As Dany gazed at the snowy mountains before her, she lifted her head as she prayed to the old gods for forgiveness for what she was about to do.

Her mission was set before her. She prayed for strength, for resilience, for courage.

_We are the swords in the darkness, we are the watchers on the wall…_

That’s what the Halfhand was trying to tell her with his dying breath. Dany was to be the sword in the darkness. A wolf in wildling furs.

Dany breathed deeply, there was no going back now.

* * *

* * *

 Jon stared up at the tall, foreboding tower that stood atop a long ascending set of stairs. There were no windows and from where he stood, he could see no gates or doors either.

“This is where I leave you.” Xaro Xhoan Daxos said grimly.

Jon nodded without looking at him as he started up the stairs.

“Might I leave you one last word of advice, Aegon Targarye?” Xaro asked.

Jon paused and turned to look back at him.

“Don’t believe everything you see.”

Jon replied, “A bit obvious considering I’m entering a tower of sorcerers. But… thank you.”

Xaro bowed his head to him curtly before he walked away. Jon took a deep breath as he continued his way to the foot of the tower.

Once he had reached the platform on the top of the steps, Jon looked up at the edifice. The stones of the tower were of a dark greyish hue and as Jon looked up, he noted that the tower was coiled like that of a serpent and many of the stones were old and crumbling. He reached out to touch the surface, afraid that his hand might suddenly pass through but found that they were just as solid as any stone. The surface was cold despite it still being day.

Jon drew back his hand and started to circle around the tower wondering if maybe a secret door or window would suddenly appear.

Just then, Jon heard faint whispers behind him. As he turned around at the sound, he suddenly found himself in darkness. The air was chilly and damp. Jon realized he must have somehow found a way into the tower or the warlocks were already bewitching him.

He saw a light in the distance and as he walked towards it, his boots echoed on the cold hard cobblestones. Jon found a lone torch hung upon a wall and he carefully removed it from its ring.

“Is this another of your parlour tricks, warlock?” Jon cried out down the hallway, “Too scared to face me and fight?”

_“Father…of…dragons…”_

Jon heard the murmurs again this time more clearly.

_“King… of…. Ashes…”_

He walked forward and held the torch before him.

_“Son… of… Fire…”_

“Where are you?” Jon asked the darkness in a loud voice, “Show yourself to me, you blue-lipped viper!”

As he continued walking, Jon saw that the hallway was coming to an end. Against the wall was a small circular table atop a thin, spindly glass leg. On the table was a black goblet filled with blue liquid.

_“Drink…”_

“You think I can’t tell poison when it’s set before me?” Jon responded with a deep frown.

_“Drink… and see the truth… Drink…and find your children…”_

Jon stared down at the goblet. Every fiber in him knew better than to trust the voices.

But then he heard the familiar screech of his dragons. Their soft cries and mewls. They were calling for him.

_My dragons…_

Jon knew he had no choice, he would do whatever it took to get them back. He picked up the goblet and gulped down its content. The potion was bitter as it slid down his throat.

As he threw the goblet aside, Jon saw a door had appeared on the previously blank wall.

His brow knotted in confusion and curiosity, he turned the handle and pushed the door open.

 

Jon found himself inside a room that was bathed in an eerie shade of bloody red. Red curtains, red carpets, even the glow of the candles were emitting a reddish hue.

As he walked, he realized that it wasn’t a carpet he was stepping on. It was blood.

Long tables were situated on either side of him. Men with distorted faces were feasting and drinking on them, some were without heads, others without limbs. Jon looked to his right and saw the body of a man sitting on what looked like a throne but his head was that of a grey wolf and a wooden crown was upon its head.

On his left, he saw a pale naked woman lying atop the table. Five men surrounded her. One of them choked her with a rope, another was licking her fingertips. Another was fucking her hard against the table, holding up both her legs. One man was stabbing her repeatedly in the stomach while another poured dark red wine over her breasts.

Jon walked past these two visions hurriedly and his boots were soaked in blood as he sprinted to the other side of the room. He saw another door and he pushed it open.

He was in a smaller room and on his right, a chest had overturned and bright red rubies spilled from it covering the floor. While to his left was a pot, also turned over, but it was molten yellow gold that seeped out from under it. Jon was mesmerized as he moved through this second room.

As he passed a different threshold, Jon found himself standing outside on an empty street. It was a warm summer day, he could smell the scent of lemons whiff by.

“Pick up your sword, Little Jon.” A deep voice said.

Jon turned around and he gasped as he stepped back.

Jon Connington stood before him just like Jon had remembered him. It was  as if the years had turned back and he was back in Braavos.

“Go on, boy.” Jon Connington was holding out a sword towards him. Jon swallowed hard and shook his head.

_You’re dead. This isn’t real. I’m not really in Braavos._

Jon ran to the house with the red door and slammed his shoulder into the door.

Again, he was yet somewhere else. This time he was standing in the middle of the Dothraki sea. But the grass looked pale and sickly. It was milk colored and it fluttered gently against his legs.

_Ghost grass…_

“[Blood of my blood.]” It was Khal Drogo. He was standing a few feet away from Jon. Green blood dripping from his open wounds.

Jon backed away and ran. He had enough of this. The visions. What did they mean? Were they the past? The present? The future?

Jon no longer cared. He needed to get away. Why was he even here? What did he come here for?

He couldn’t remember.

As he ran, the visions continued. A new one emerging with each door he opened and ran through.

_Shadows swirling in a tent…_

_Lions trapped in a garden of roses…_

_Three small children drowning in a lake of gold…_

_A thundering sea with a fleet of a thousand dark ships…_

_Flags and banners  burning in the wind…_

_“Burn them all!!!”_

_Dragon skulls. Dragon bones. Dragon shadows._

_A murder of crows flew overhead..._

_Wolves howling at a pale moon…_

_Men and women with no faces holding daggers in their hands…_

Jon shut his eyes and fell to his knees. He covered his face in his hands.

“Make it stop… make it stop…”

“There must be one more.” A low voice replied.

“No… no more…” Jon begged.

“The dragon has three heads… three children… three flames…”

“What if It’s a girl?” a woman’s voice asked.

Jon opened his eyes. He was in a small room. A woman with dark hair was sitting on a bed. She was heavy with child.

“All the better if it is a girl.” A man replied. He had silver hair and looked almost like an older version of Jon.

_Is this me? Is this my future?_

“Will you sing her a song then, Rhaegar?” The woman asked.

_Rhaegar…_

“Yes. Her song is the song of ice and fire. It will be sung throughout the world and it will all belong to none but her.” Rhaegar replied as he took a harp and started to pluck it’s strings gracefully.

_Brother…_

Jon looked down at his hands. Snow was falling on him. It gathered in his open palms.

When he looked around, the man and woman vanished. He was standing in the centre of a great Hall. The roof was torn off and everywhere Jon saw blackened statues and windows as if a great fire had engulfed it.

And there before him was the Iron Throne. The thousand swords were half-covered in white snow. It seemed to beckon to him, calling his name.

He could hear the echoes of “Long Live the King!” repeated over and over again.

Jon reached out to touch the throne but just as he was about to. He heard them again.

_My dragons…_

He remembered now. He was in the House of the Undying. This was all a trick, a lie! The dragons. His dragons… he needed to save them.

Jon stepped away from the Iron Throne and towards the giant wooden doors that opened into a barren wintery landscape.

Although Jon was walking through snow and ice, he didn’t feel the cold. Jon looked above him and saw a monstrous wall of ice towering over the doors he exited.

“Jon!”

He heard his name and his eyes searched for the origin of the voice.

There was a Dothraki hut just a few steps away from the great ice wall.

Jon walked towards it but stopped to look at something on the ground just before the entrance of the hut.

It was a single blue rose growing on the frozen ground covered in ice. It was in full bloom. Jon wondered how something so delicate and beautiful could survive in such a barren, harsh environment. He was about to reach down to grab it when he heard his name again.

“Jon…”

He knew this voice. Jon pushed aside the heavy drape that covered the front entrance of the hut.

“[My Silver.]”

Jon felt all breath leave his lips.

“Val?”

Sitting on a small cot in the middle of the room was his Khaleesi. One of her breasts was bare as she fed a tiny babe with wispy silver hair.

A surge of emotion filled his chest as he knelt in front of her and gazed at the child in her arms.

“[Am I dead?]” Jon asked in disbelief.

Val smiled in amusement as the baby’s small fist tugged lightly on her brown hair.

“[Or Is this a dream?]” Jon continued.

“[If it is a dream, maybe it’s a good one this time.]” She replied softly.

Jon couldn’t help but give a sad and short laugh.

The baby in her arms murmured.

“[Our son?]” Jon asked in a whisper.

Val nodded as she looked down at their child, swaying him gently.

“[He looks like you.]” She stated with a fond grin then she looked up at Jon, “[Would you like to hold him?]”

Jon could almost feel his heart leap from his chest as he was about to reach his arms towards her.

For the third time, Jon heard the cries of his dragons. They sounded farther and more distant now that he could scarcely hear them.

Jon pulled his arms back and Val's smile faded into worry.

“[What’s wrong?]” she asked as she held the baby out to him. Their son gurgled and Jon could see the pale lilac color of his eyes as he cooed softly.

Jon felt tears behind his eyes as he slowly stood up.

“When the sun rises in the west, when the mountains blow in the wind like leaves and the seas run dry… when I have a child who lives and breathes… that’s when you’ll come back to me, my love. And not before.”

Her eyes were sad and filled with longing as she cuddled the baby close to her. She held out her hand to him.

“[My Silver… don’t leave us…]”

Jon shook his head as he staggered backwards.

“I can’t… they’re waiting for me… I can’t leave them…” He whispered, more to himself than to her.

“[My love?]” she called out.

_I’ll see you again… one day… we will be together…_

Jon turned and it took all of his will and strength to leave her and their son.

_But they aren’t real either… they’re dead… I saw them burn…_

As Jon pushed through the heavy fur drape, he expected to step back into the icy, snow covered landscape. But he found himself in what looked like a dark dungeon.

He felt something heavy on his wrists and Jon looked to see that both of his wrists had heavy irons clasped around them. Jon tried to lift his arms but he couldn't. His arms were then stretched to the sides.

“What is this?” Jon demanded.

“You passed the test, Father of Dragons. Would you like to see your children now?” The voice of Pyat Pree asked gleefully.

From the ceiling, a steel cage hung right above him and Jon looked up to see his three dragons screeching and crying for him.

_Little ones…_

Jon strained against his chains, “You will not take them from me!”

“We would never dream of taking children away from their father. So you will have your children but you will never leave here Aegon Stormborn.” Pyat Pree said with a malicious grin on his stained blue lips.

Quaithe's warning echoed in Jon's mind as he cursed at the warlock angrily.

“Now, now. Is that anyway to speak in front of your children?” chided Pyat Pree as the cage where the dragons were was lowered behind Jon's back, blocking his view of them. Bit he saw the small ring of iron around their little necks. The sound of them pulling against their chains infuriated Jon more.

A dark flame raged in Jon's purple eyes as he glared at Pyat Pree.

He knew he was powerless from where he stood as the chains on his wrists stretched his arms out to the side.

He listened as his dragons continued to cry out helplessly.

 _No…_ Jon thought… _Dragons bow to no one. We are fire made flesh._

As he thought of those words , Jon lifted his head.

“Do you know what happens to those who dare to cage a dragon?” Jon said in a low threatening voice.

Pyat Pree's bluish smile slowly faded as he approached Jon.

Jon’s lips curled, “They burn.”

Jon turned his head as far back as he could and yelled, “ _Dracarys!”_

Drogon, Rhaegal and finally Viserion opened their jaws and three blasts of red flame jetted from behind Jon. He felt the heat of their fire pass his skin as the Qartheen tunic he wore burned. But Jon felt no pain. Pyat Pree screamed as the fire caught on his robes and engulfed him in a large ball of red flame. As the warlock stumbled backwards into a curtain, the material caught on fire and quickly spread.

Jon's manacles faded into smoke and so did the dragons' cage. But the three little beasts took wing as soon as they were free. Jon watched as they breathed fire into various corners of the room and Jon realized other warlocks were there as well hidden by their own magic. Soon the entire dungeon was in flames.

“{To me! Fly to me!}” Jon called out in Valyrian and the dragons flew to him at the sound of his voice.

Rhaegal and Drogon perched on either of Jon's shoulders and Viserion flew to Jon's arms. Jon saw an open door and ran towards it. The door led to a descending stairway that was filling with smoke. Jon sprinted down the stairs as fast as he could. He had hoped the stairway was not another part of the sorcery of the tower.

To his relief, the stairs ended and before him was a wooden door. He quickly unbolted the lock and as he swung open the door, he shielded his eyes from the light. Viserion who was cradled in in his right arm screeched. Jon rushed out and he found himself back outside the tower.

Turning to look behind him, Jon saw the flames coming through the cracks of stone as the tower trembled and burning rocks started to fall. He hurriedly made his way down the outer steps and with his dragons safe by his side, Jon paused and looked back once more.

He heard the distant screams of men and watched as the tower started to fall, the roof in flames.

“So much for their cheap parlour tricks.” Jon mumbled to himself as the House of the Undying crumbled. His upper torso was bare after his tunic was burnt away.

“It’s time for us to finally leave Qarth, little ones. And not a moment too soon.” Jon said as Drogon pressed his head against Jon's forehead and Rhaegal’s small claws dug into Jon's shoulder.

Jon’s eyes were set and determined as he made his way back out to the streets of Qarth and towards the port where Ser Jorah, his khalasar and his one ship awaited him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished Season 2 in just 2 (long) chapters! Yay! I simplified the Qarth storyline because well, the only thing I liked about Qarth was the House of Undying stuff. I also didn't give Xaro Xhoan Daxos the whole "I wanna be King of Qarth" thing because I personally didn't like that very much so his character here is more book!Xaro. 
> 
> In fact, there's a blend of show and book in the House of Undying stuff. I didn't include all the prophecies though.
> 
> Also for those eager for some Dany/Ygritte action, that will come next chapter as next chapter starts their Season 3 plot arcs! 
> 
> I visualize Jon here in my story to be more of a temper tantrum-y, hissy fit teenager than show!Dany was, LOL. 
> 
> Also I used Viserion instead of Dragon here for that first Dracarys scene because I wanted more scenes of him. :(


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